THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


the  life  of  james 
McNeill  whistler 


THE  GENTLE  ART 

OF 

MAKING  ENEMIES 

As  pleasingly  exemplified  in  many  instances 
wherein  the  serious  ones  of  this  earth,  care- 
fully exasperated,  have  been  prettily  spurred 
on  to  unseemliness  and  indiscretion,  while 
overcome  by  an  undue  sense  of  right. 

BY 

JAMES  MCNEILL  WHISTLER 

Pott  ito,  1  OS.  6d.  vet 

PORTRAIT  OF  JAMES  McNEILL 

WHISTLER 

By  William  Nicholson 

Price  2i.  Gd.  net 

* 

LONDON  :  WILLIAM  HEINBMANN 


I'OKTHAir  OV  THK  ARTIST 


the  life  of  james 
McNeill  whistler 

BY 

E.  R.  AND  J.  PENNELL 

IN  TWO  VOLUMES 
ILLUSTRATED 

VOLUME  II 


LONDON:  WILLIAM  HEINEMANN 

PHILADELPHIA  :  J.  B.  LIPPINCOIT  COMPANY 

1908 


Copyright^  London  1908,  by   JViUiam  Ileinemann 

and  Ji'ashington,  United  States  of  America 

by  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company 


ND 
237 


CONTENTS  V-.  Z 


CHAPTER  XXV.  AMONG  FRIENDS.  THE  YEARS 
EIGHTEEN  EIGHTY-ONE  TO  EIGHTEEN  EIGHTY- 
SEVEN  1 

Joseph  Pennell  meets  Whistler — First  Impressions — the  "  Sarasate" 
— Sir  Seymour  Haden — Mr.  Frederick  Keppel's  Visit  to  Whistler  and 
his  Account  of  it 

CHAPTER   XXVI.      AMONG    FRIENDS    CONTINUED. 

THE  YEARS  EIGHTEEN  EIGHTY-ONE  TO  EIGHTEEN 

EIGHTY  SEVEN  10 

Whistler's  Friends  in  Tite  Street — Sir  Rennell  Rodd's  Reminiscences 
— Oscar  Wilde — Reasons  for  the  Friendship  and  for  its  short  Duration — 
The  Followers — Their  Devotion  and  Their  Exaggerations — Mr.  Harper 
Pennington'' s  Reminiscences  of  Whistler  in  London' 

CHAPTER    XXVII.  THE    STUDIO    IN    THE    FULHAM 

ROAD.     THE   YEARS    EIGHTEEN    EIGHTY-FIVE    TO 

EIGHTEEN  EIGHTY-SEVEN  24 

Whistler  moves  to  the  Fulham  Road — Description  of  the  new  Studio — 
Pictures  in  Progress — Mr.  Booth  PearsaU's  Account  of  a  Visit  to  it — 
Mr.  William  M.  Chase,  his  Portrait  and  His  Reminiscences — Plana 
to  visit  America 

CHAPTER    XXVIII.      THE    "TEN    O'CLOCK."      THE 

YEARS   EIGHTEEN    EIGHTY-FOUR     TO     EIGHTEEN 

EIGHTY-EIGHT  34 

Whistler  writes  the  "  Ten  o'Clock  " — Proposes  to  Publish  it  as  Article 
— Then  to  Deliver  it  as  Lecture  in  Ireland — Exhibition  of  his  Work 
in  Dublin — Arranges  with  Mrs.  D'Oyly  Carte  for  Lecture  in  London 
— The  "Ten  o'Clock"  given  at  Prince's  Hall — The  Audience — The 
Critics — Analysis  of  the  "  Ten  o'Clock  " — Us  Delivery  in  Other  Places — 
Its  Publication — Swinburne's  Criticism 


2067134 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  XXIX.  THE  BRITISH  ARTISTS— THE  RISE. 
THE  YEARS  EIGHTEEN  EIGHTY-FOUR  TO  EIGHTEEN 
EIGHTY-SIX  47 

Approached  by  the  British  Artists — Elected  a  Member  of  thi  Society — 
His  Position  as  Artist  at  this  Period  and  the  Position  of  the  Society — 
Reasons  for  the  Invitation  and  his  Acceptance — His  interest  in  the 
Society — His  Contributions  to  its  Exhibitions — The  Graham  Sale — 
Publication  of  Twenty-Six  Etchings  by  DowdesweW s — Exhibition  oj 
Notes,  Harmonies,  Nocturnes,  at  DowdesweW s — Elected  President  of  the 
British  Artists 

CHAPTER  XXX.  THE  BRITISH  ARTISTS— THE  FALL. 
THE  YEARS  EIGHTEEN  EIGHTY-SIX  TO  EIGHTEEN 
EIGHTY-EIGHT  62 

Whistler  as  President — His  Decoration  of  the  OaUery  and  hanging  of 

Pictures — Indignation  of  Members — Visit  of  the  Prince  of  Wales — 
Growing  Dissatisfaction  in  the  Society — Jubilee  of  Queen  Victoria — 
Whistler's  Congratulatory  Address— British  Artists'  made  a  Boyal 
Society — Dissatisfaction  becomes  Open  Warfare — The  Crisis — Wyke 
Bayliss  elected  President — Whistler's  Resignation 

CHAPTER  XXXI.  MARRIAGE.  THE  YEAR  EIGHTEEN 
EIGHTY-EIGHT  75 

Whistler's  Wedding — Reception  at  the  Tower  House — His  Wife — His 
Devotion — Influence  of  Marriage 

CHAPTER  XXXII.    WORK.    THE  YEARS  EIGHTEEN 

EIGHTY-FOUR  TO  EIGHTEEN  NINETY  80 

Water-Colours — Etchings,  Belgian  and  Dutch — Exhibition  of  Dutch 
Etchings — Lithographs 

CHAPTER  XXXIII.  HONOURS— EXHIBITIONS— NEW 
INTERESTS.  THE  YEARS  EIGHTEEN  EIGHTY-NINE 
TO  EIGHTEEN  NINETY  88 

Honours  from  Paris,  Munich  and  Amsterdam — Dinner  to  Whistler — 
Paris  Universal  Exhibition  of  ISS9— Exhibition  of  Whistler's  Work  in 
Queen  Square — Moves  to  21  Cheyne  Walk — M.  Harry's  Impressions  of 
the  House — Portrait  of  Comte  de  Monies juiou — W.  E.  Henley  and 
"  National  Observer  " — New  Friends 
vi 


CONTENTS 

PACE 

CHAPTER  XXXIV.     "  THE  GENTLE  ART."    THE  YEAR 

EIGHTEEN  HUNDRED  AND  NINETY  100 

Whistler  CoUects  his  Letters  and  Writings — Work  begun  by  Mr.  Sheridan 
Ford — Mr.  J.  McLure  Hamiltoii's  Account — Action  at  Antwerp  to 
suppress  Ford's  Edition — Mr.  Heinemann  Publishes  "  The  Gentle  Art  " 
for  Whistler — Summary  of  the  Book — Period  of  Unimportant  Quarrels 


CHAPTER  XXXV.  THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE.  THE 
YEARS  EIGHTEEN  NINETY-ONE  TO  EIGHTEEN 
NINETY-TWO  114 

The  "Carlyle"  bought  by  the  Glasgow  Corporation — "The  Mother" 
bought  for  the  Luxembourg — The  Exhibition  at  the  Goupil  Gallery — 
Mr.  D.  Croat  Thomson's  Account 


CHAPTER  XXXVI.    THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE.    THE 

YEARS    /EIGHTEEN     NINETY-ONE     TO     EIGHTEEN 

NINETY-TWO  CONTINUED  124 

Success  of  the  Exhibition — The  Catalogue — Commissions — Demand 
for  his  Pictures — Mr.  H.  S.  Theobald's  Reminiscences — Whistler's 
Indignation  at  Sale  of  Early  Pictures  by  Old  Friends — Instance  given 
by  Sir  Eennell  Rodd — Invited  to  show  at  the  Chicago  Exhibition — Not 
Known  at  R.A. — Decorations  for  Boston  Public  Library 


CHAPTER  XXXVII.    PARIS.     THE  YEAR  EIGHTEEN 

NINETY-TWO  TO  NINETY-THREE  133 

Whistler  goes  to  Paris  to  live — Joseph  Pennell  with  him  there  in  1892 
and  1893 — Lithographs — Colour  Work — Studio  in  Rue  Notre-Dame-des- 
Champs — Apartment  in  the  Rue  da  Bac — Etchings  printed — Afternoons 
in  the  Garden — Day  at  Fontainebleau — Wills  Signed— Mr.  E.  O. 
Kennedy's  Portrait — Rioting  in  the  Latin  Quarter 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII.  PARIS  CONTINUED.  THE  YEARS 
EIGHTEEN  NINETY-THREE  TO  EIGHTEEN  NINETY- 
FOUR  ,;  150 

Whistler's  Friends  in  Paris — Mr.  MacMonnies',  Mr.  Walter  Gay's  and 
Mr.  Alexander  Harrison's  Retniniscences — Mr.  A,  J.  Eddy's  Portrait 
— Portraits  of  Women  be.gun', 

vii 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


CHAPTER  XXXIX.  TRL\LS  AND  GRIEFS.  THE  YEARS 
EIGHTEEN  NINETY-FOUR  TO  EIGHTEEN  NINETY- 
SIX  160 

Du  Jlaurier's  "  Trilby  " — Apology — Mrs.  Whistler's  Illness — The 
Eden  Trial — Whistler  Challenges  George  Moore — In  Lyme  Segis  and 
London — Portraits  in  Lithography — Mr.  S.  It.  Crockett's  Account  of  the 
Sittings  for  his  Portrait — Mrs.  Whistler's  Death — New  Will 

CHAPTER  XL.  ALONE.  THE  YEAR  EIGHTEEN 
NINETY-SIX  173 

Work  and  Little  Jouriieys — Mr.  E.  G.  Kennedy's  Reminiscences — 
Evenings  with  Whistler — Visit  to  the  National  Gallery — Whistler  goes 
to  live  leith  Mr.  Hcinemann  at  Whitehall  Court — Mr.  Henry  Savage 
Landor — Mr.  Edmund  Heinemann — Eden  Affair — Last  Meeting  with 
Sir  Seymour  Haden — Christmas  at  Bournemouth 

CHAPTER    XLI.      THE    LITHOGRAPHY    CASE.     THE 

YEARS     EIGHTEEN     NINETY-SIX     TO     EIGHTEEN 

NINETY-SEVEN  186 

Mr.  Walter  Sickeri's  Article  in  ••  Saturday  Review" — Joseph  PenneU 
sues  Him  for  Libel — Whistler  the  Principal  Witness — In  the  Witness- 
Box  under  Cross  Examination — Verdict — Whistler's  Pleasure 

CHAPTER  XLII.     THE  END    OF    THE    EDEN    CASE. 

THE   YEAR   EIGHTEEN  NINETY-SEVEN  193 

M.  Boldini's  Portrait  of  Whistler — In  London — Visits  to  Hampton — 
Journey  to  Dieppe — The  Eden  Case  in  the  Cour  de  Cassation —  Whistler's 
Triumph — "  The  Baronet  and  the  Butterfly  " — The  Whistler  Syndicate  : 
Company  of  the  Butterfly 

CHAPTER  XLIII.  BETWEEN  LONDON  AND  PARIS. 
THE  YEARS  EIGHTEEN  NINETY-SEVEN  TO  NINE- 
TEEN HUNT)RED  202 

Illness  in  Paris— Fever  of  Work— Portrait  of  Mr.  George  Vanderbilt— 
Other  Portraits  and  Models — Pictures  of  Children — Nudes — Pastels 
— Spanish  War — Journey  to  Italy — "  Best  man  "  at  Mr.  Heinemann's 
Wedding — Impressions  of  Rome — Mr.  Kerr-Lawson's  Account  of  His 
Stay  in  Florence — Winter  in  Paris — Loneliness — Meetings  with  old 
Student  Friends— Dr.  Whistler's  Death — Dinner  at  Mr.  Heinemann's 
—Mr.  Arthur  Symons'  Impressions  of  Whistler 
viii 


CONTENTS 

PACE 

CHAPTER  XLIV.  THE  INTERNATIONAL.  THE  YEARS 
EIGHTEEN  NINETY-SEVEN  TO  NINETEEN  HUNDRED 
AND  THREE  216 

The  International  Society  of  Sculptors,  Painters  and  Gravers — Whistler 
Elected  First  President — Activity  of  His  Interest — First  Exhibition  at 
Knightsbridge — Second  Exhibition — Difjiculties — Third  Exhibition  at 
the  Royal  Institute — Exhibitions  on  the  Continent  and  in  America — 
Whistler's  Presidency  etids  only  with  Death 

CHAPTER  XLV.  THE  ACADEMIE  CARMEN.  THE 
YEARS  EIGHTEEN  NINETY- EIGHT  TO  NINETEEN 
HUNDRED  AND  ONE  22S 

Sclwol  opened  in  the  Passage  Stanislas,  Paris — Whistler  and  Mr. 
Frederick  MacMonnies  Propose  to  visit  it — History  of  the  School 
written,  at  Whistler's  request,  by  Mrs.  Clifford  Addains — Her  Account 
— His  Methods — His  Advice — His  Palette — Misunderstandings — Mrs. 
Addams  apprenticed  to  Whistler — Men's  Class  discontinued — Third  year 
Begins  with  Woynan's  Class  Alone — School  Closed — Mr.  Clifford 
Addains  made  are  Apprentice — J/r.  MacMonnies'  Account — Comparison 
with  Other  Art  Schools 

CHAPTER    XLVI.     THE    BEGINNING   OF    THE    END. 

THE  YEAR  NINETEEN  HUNDRED  247 

Whistler  authorises  J.  and  E.  P.  Pennell  to  Write  his  Life  and  Mr. 
Heinemann  to  publish  it — Whistler  gives  his  Reminiscences — Photo- 
graphing begun  in  Studio — Paris  Universal  Exhibition — Interest  in  the 
Boer  War — The  "  Island  "  and  the  "  Islanders  " — The  Pekin  Massacre 
and  Blue  Pots — Dornburg — Visit  to  Ireland — Sir  Walter  Armstrong's 
Reminiscences  of  Whistler  in  Dublin — Irritation  with  Critics  of  his 
Pictures  in  Paris — Increasing  Ill-Health  in  the  ArUumn — Serious 
Illness — Starts  for  the  South 

CHAPTER  XLVII.  IN  SEARCH  OF  HEALTH.  THE 
YEARS  NINETEEN  HUNDRED  AND  ONE  TO  NINE- 
TEEN HUNDRED  AND  TWO  26& 

Tangier — Algiers — Marseilles — Ajaccio — Winter  in  Corsica —  Visit 
from  Mr.  Heinemann — Dominoes — Rests  for  the  First  Time — Return 
to  London  in  the  Spring — Work  in  the  Summer — Illness  in  the  Autumn 
— Bath — Appreciations  by  Mr.  E.  A.  Walton  and  Mr.  F.  Morley 
Fletcher — No.  74  Cheyne  Walk — Annoyances — Journey  to  Holland- 
Dangerous  Illness  in  Tlie  Hague — Mr.  0.  Sautcr's  Account  of  his  Last 
Visit  to  Franz  Hals  at  Haarlem 

ix 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  XLVIII.   THE  END.   THE  YEARS  NINETEEN 

HUNDRED  AND  TWO  TO  NINETEEN  HUNDRED  AND 

THREE  288 

Return  to  74  Cheyne  Walk — Illness — Gradual  Decline — Work — 
Portraits — Prints — Exhibition  of  Silver — Degree  of  LL.D.  from  Glasgow 
University — St.  Louis  Exposition — Worries — Last  Weeks — Death — 
Funeral — Grave 

APPENDIX  305 

INDEX  315 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


Portrait  of  the  Artist  Frontispiece 

Formerly  in  the  possession  of  the  late  George  McCulIoch,  Esq. 

To  face 
page 

Portrait  of  Padlo  Sarasate  (^Arrangement  in  Black)  4 

In  the  Carnegie  Institute,  Pittsburgh 

A  Group  in  Whistler's  Studio,  Tite  Street,  1881  10 

From  a  photograph  by  the  Hon.  F.  Lawless.     Lent  by  Ralph  Curtis 
Esq. 

The  General  Dealer  l6 

Now  in  the  possession  of  J.  J.  Cowan,  Esq. 

Portrait  of  M.  Thkodore  Duret  {Arrangement  in  Flesh   Colour 

and  Black)  20 

In  the  possession  of  M.  Theodore  Duret 

Maud  24- 

La  Note  Rouge  28 

In  the  possession  of  Sir  George  A.  Drummond 

Maud  reading  in  a  Hammock  (Water-Colour)  28 

In  the  possession  of  A.  Buck,  Esq. 

A  Portrait  (Maud)  30 

James  McNeill  Whistler  {From  a  bust  by  Sir  J.  E.  Boehm)  36 

In  the  possession  of  H  R.H.  Princess  Louise,  Duchess  of  Argyll 

Cremorne  Gardens  {No.  II.)  40 

In  the  possession  of  T.  K.  Way,  Esq. 

Chelsea  Wharf  {Grey  and  Silver)  46 

Now  in  the  possession  of  P.  A.  B.  Widener,  Esq. 

The  Balcony  {Harmony  in  Flesh  Colour  and  Green)  52 

Now  in  the  possession  of  C.  L.  Freer,  Esq. 

zi 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

To  fact 
patje 

Cremorne  Gardens  (^Xoctitrne  No.  HI.)  60 

Now  in  the  possession  of  C.  Conder,  Esq. 

Westminster  {Socliinie,  Blue  and  Silver)  60 

Now  in  the  possession  of  the  Hon.  Percy  Wyudham 

Nocturne,  Battersea  {Lithotini)  72 

LiMEHOusE  {Litholint)  72 

74  Cheyne  Walk,  Chelsea  76 

Tower  House,  Tite  Street,  Chelsea  76 

21  Cheyne  Walk,  Chelsea  76 

The  Beach  (JVater-Coloitr)  SO 

In  the  possession  of  Mrs.  Knowles 

Interior  of  Hall  [Water- Colour)  82 

In  the  possession  of  J.  J.  Cowan,  Esq. 

The  Fur  Jacket  {Arrangement  in  Black  and  Brown)  84 

Now  in  the  possession  of  William  Burrell,  Esq. 

Nude  Figure  and  Cupid  ( Water-Colour)  86 

In  the  possession  of  Madame  la  Comtesse  de  Beam 

Effie  Deans  88 

From  the  picture  in  the  Rijks  Museum,  Amsterdam 

Lithograph  90 

Annabel  Lee  (Pastel)  92 

In  the  possession  of  Thomas  Way,  Esq. 

L'Americaine  {Arrangement  in  Black  and  White,  No.  I.)  100 

Dieppe  J  04 

Now  in  the  possession  of  Douglas  Freshfield,  Esq. 

Southampton  Water  {Nocturne,  Blue  and  Gold)  108 

Now  in  the  Chicago  Art  Institute 

Trafalgar  Square,  Chelsea  1 1 6 

Now  in  the  possession  of  J.  W.  Martin  White,  Esq. 

Old  Battersea  Bridge  (Brown  and  Siher)  120 

Now  in  the  possession  of  Edmund  Davis,  Esq. 

The  Gold  Screen  {Caprice  in  Purple  and  Gold)  124 

Now  in  the  possession  of  C.  L.  Freer,  Esq. 
xii 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

To  fact 
page 

The  Last  of  Old  Westminster  126 

Now  iu  the  possession  of  Alfred  Attmore  Pope,  Esq. 

The  Children  of  F.  R.  Leyland  {Pastels)  128 

In  the  possession  of  Mrs.  F.  R.  Leyland 

Whistler  at  his  Printing  Press  in  the  Roe  Notre  Dame  Des 

Champs,  Paris  136 

From  a  photograph  by  M.  Dornac,  Paris 

In  the  Studio  at  the  Rue  Notre  Dame  Des  Champs,  Paris  144 

From  a  photograph  by  M.  Dornac,  Paris 

Yellow  House,  Lannion  {Lithograph)  148 

Cameos  152 

In  the  possession  of  T.  K.  Way,  Esq. 

Portrait  of  Miss  Kinsella  {The  Iris,  Rose  and  Green)  154 

In  the  possession  of  Miss  Kinsella 

Studies  for  "  Weary"  {Charcoal  Drawings)  156 

In  the  possession  of  B.  B.  MacGeorge,  Esq. 

Weary-  {Drtf-point)  156 

Landscape  1 62 

In  the  possession  of  Alexander  Young,  Esq. 

The  Little  Rose  of  Lyme  Regis  166 

In  the  Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts  (The  Warren  Collection) 

The  Master  Smith  of  Lyme  Regis  170 

In  the  Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts 

A  Freshening  Breeze  178 

In  the  possession  of  John  G.  Ure,  Esq. 

Beaching  the  Boat  {Harmony  in  Blue  and  Silver)  '  184 

In  the  possession  of  His  Honour  Judge  Evans 

The  Philosopher  {Portrait  of  C.  E.  Holloway,  Rose  and  Bronm)         188 

In  the  possession  of  Madame  la  Comtesse  De  Beam 

Portrait  of  Master  Stephen  Manuel  {Airangement  in  Grey)  196 

Formerly  in  the  possession  of  the  late  Mrs.  Manuel 

Portrait  of  a  Baby  200 

In  the  possession  of  Brandon  Thomas,  Esq. 

Portrait  of  Whistler  {Pen  and  Ink  Study  for  Portrait,  Brown 

and  Gold)  202 

In  the  possession  of  Joseph  Fennell,  Esq. 

xiii 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

loface 
page 

LiLLiE  IN  OUR  Alley  {Bronm  aiid  Gold)  204 

Now  iu  the  possession  of  J.  J.  Cowan,  Esq. 

A  Cup  of  Tea  {Pastel)  206 

The  Little  Lady  Sophie  of  Soho  (Rose  and  Gold)  208 

Now  in  the  possession  of  C.  L.  Freer,  Esq. 

The  Violinist  210 

The  Seia,  Pourville  214 

Now  iu  the  possession  of  A.  Arnold  Hannay,  Esq. 

Robin  Hood  Bay  214 

The  Widow  218 

Formerly  in  the  possession  of  J.  Staats  Forbes,  Esq, 

The  Little  Blue  Bonnet  {Blue  and  Coral)  220 

Formerly  in  the  possession  of  William  Heinemann,  Esq. 

La  Princesse  du  Pays  de  la  Porcelaine  224 

Now  in  the  possession  of  C.  L.  Freer,  Esq. 

Miss  Agnes  Mary  Alexander  236 

In  the  possession  of  W.  C.  Alexander,  Esq. 

Nelly  {Pencil  Draiving)  242 

In  the  possession  of  Laurence  W.  Hodson 

The  Little  White  Girl  {Symphony  in  White,  No  II.)  252 

Now  in  the  possession  of  Arthur  Studd,  Esq. 

Sea  {Water-Colour)  256 

In  the  possession  of  Mrs.  A.  M.  Jarris 

Figure  with  Fan  (Chalk  Draiving)  260 

Formerly  in  the  possession  of  J.  Staats  Forbes,  Esq. 

Glimpses  of  Whistler  266 

The  Girl  in  Black  292 

Whistler's  Palette  302 

In  the  possession  of  Mrs.  John  Newmarch 

Whistler's  Grave  302 

Original  Sketch  (from  "Harmony  in  Blue  and  Gold")  page  314 


Siv 


CHAPTER  XXV.  AMONG  FRIENDS. 
THE  YEARS  EIGHTEEN  EIGHTY- 
ONE  TO  EIGHTEEN  EIGHTY-SEVEN 

IT  was  in  the  summer  of  1884  that  J.  met  Whistler.     Up 
to  this  time  we  have  had  to  rely  upon  what  Whistler 
and  those  who  knew  him  have  told  us.     Henceforward  we 
write  from  our  own  knowledge. 
This  is  J.'s  story  of  the  meeting  : 

"  I  first  saw  Whistler  on  one  of  those  brilliant  days  (July  13, 
1884)  which  come  sometimes  in  summer  in  London,  though 
we  have  a  way  of  thinking  they  do  not  exist  out  of  Italy. 
I  had  just  been  married,  had  just  started  on  a  journey  of 
work  that  is  not  yet  at  an  end,  and  the  wonder,  the  mystery, 
the  very  smell  of  London  had  taken  hold  of  me  with  a  power 
they  have  not  yet  lost.  Among  the  many  things  I  had  been 
asked  to  do  in  this  marvellous  place,  by  Mr.  Gilder,  editor 
of  the  Century  Magazine,  was  the  illustration  of  a  series  of 
articles  on  Old  Chelsea  by  Dr.  B.  E.  Martin.  Mr.  Gilder 
suggested — or  was  it  Mr.  Drake,  the  art  editor  ? — that  if  I 
could  get  Whistler  to  etch,  draw  or  paint  something  in  Chelsea 
for  the  Century,  naturally  the  Century  would  be  very  glad 
to  have  it.     And  this  is  the  beginning  of  the  whole  story. 

"  It  so  happened  that  some  of  his  water-colours  and  pastels, 
mostly  of  Chelsea,  were  on  view  in  a  Bond  Street  gallery — 
a  gallery  I  remember  vaguely  as  all  colour,  with  the  little 
pictures  telling  on  the  walls.  It  was  his  first  show  at 
Dowdeswell's — Notes,  Harmonies,  Nocturnes — opened  in  May 
1881-87]  h:a  1 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

1884.  There  his  address  was  given  me  :  No.  13  Tite  Street. 
I  remember  more  vividly  the  feehngs  with  which  I  started 
for  Chelsea.  I  was  going  to  meet  a  man  whose  work  I  had 
reverenced  from  the  first  moment  of  seeing  it  in  the  Claghorn 
Collection  two  or  three  years  before,  and  I  was  going  to  him, 
not  out  of  curiosity,  but  sent  by  a  great  magazine  to  ask  a 
great  master  to  work  for  it. 

"  I  remember  that  the  house  did  not  strike  me.  I  do  not 
remember  at  all  how  I  got  to  it.  All  I  remember  is  the  man 
and  his  work. 

"  I  knocked,  the  door  was  partly  opened  by  some  one, 
and  I  handed  in  my  letter  from  Mr.  Gilder.  I  was  left  in 
the  street  for  some  minutes.  Then  the  door  was  opened 
wide,  and  Whistler  met  me  in  the  hallway.  Save  for  his 
little  black  ribbon  tie,  he  was  all  in  white — his  waistcoat 
had  long  sleeves — and  every  minute  it  seemed  as  if  he  must 
begin  to  juggle  with  glasses.  For,  to  be  honest,  my  first 
thought  when  I  saw  him  was  that  a  bar-keeper  had  strayed 
from  a  Philadelphia  saloon  into  a  Chelsea  studio.  Never 
had  I  seen  that  thick  mass  of  black  curling  hair  before  except 
on  the  head  of  the  man  at  Finelli's  in  Chestnut  Street,  or  of 
a  gondolier  at  Venice  ;  but  there,  in  the  midst,  was  the  white 
lock,  and  never  anywhere  had  I  seen  such  keen,  brilliant 
eyes  as  those  that  flashed  at  me  from  imder  their  thick, 
bushy  eyebrows.  Then  I  found  that  Whistler  was  all 
nerves,  all  life,  all  action,  and,  frankly,  at  first  I  did  not 
like  him. 

"  At  the  end  of  the  hall  into  which  he  took  me  was  a 
shadowypassage  to  the  right,  some  steps,  a  light  room  beyond, 
and  there,  on  an  easel,  the  portrait  of  a  little  man  with  a 
violin — the  Sarasate  that  had,  I  believe,  never  been  seen 
outside  the  studio.  Whistler  stopped  me  in  the  passage,  and 
asked  me  what  I  thought  of  the  picture  framed  in  by  the  dark- 
ness. T  cannot  recall  his  words.  I  wish  I  could.  But  I  was 
2  [1881-87 


AMONG    FRIENDS 

too  overwhelmed  by  the  dignity  of  the  picture  to  remember 
■what  he  may,  or  may  not,  have  said.  I  have  had  my  doubts 
since.  I  had  long  talks  with  other  artists  when  the  portrait 
hung  near  The  Mother  and  the  Carlyle  in  the  London 
Memorial  Exhibition,  where,  in  a  way,  it  seemed  small  and 
not  in  the  least  overwhelming.  But  I  have  been  convinced 
of  my  mistake.  By  itself,  as  I  saw  it  in  the  studio,  or  as 
one  sees  it  in  a  print,  it  is  most  dignified.  But  to  give  its 
proper  effect,  it  should  be  placed  by  itself  as  Las  Meninas  is 
in  Madrid.  Hanging  with  The  Mother  and  the  Carlyle, 
both  painted  in  the  full  light  of  his  studio,  it  necessarily 
loses  something.  What  Whistler  was  trying  to  do,  and 
what  he  succeeded  in  doing,  was  to  paint  the  man  on  the 
shadowy  concert  platform  as  the  audience  saw  him.  Sara- 
sate  while  posing,  often  played  to  Whistler,  and  so,  no  doubt, 
strengthened  and  emphasised  the  impression.  It  should 
also  be  remembered  that  the  Carlyle  and  The  Mother  are  not 
life-size.  They  look  life-size' because  Whistler  meant  that 
they  should.  The  Sarasate,  on  the  other  hand,  is  intended 
to  look  small,  less  than  life-size,  as  he  would  appear  when 
seen  away  up  on  the  concert  stage.  It  is  painted  on  the 
coarse  canvas  he  usually  preferred  at  this  period.  M.  Duret 
has  since  told  us  that  Sarasate  cared  neither  for  painting  nor 
for  his  portrait,  though  Whistler  also  decorated  a  room  for 
him  in  Paris.  It  was  Goldschmidt,  his  manager,  the 
owner  of  a  Nocturne,  who  cared.     Mr.  Sidney  Starr  says  : 

'  In  the  Tite  Street  studio  Whistler  closed  the  large  door  and 
used  a  narrow  one,  three  steps  leading  up  to  it.  Leaving  this 
door  open,  he  would  go  down  the  steps  and  stand  in  the  passage 
to  look  at  his  work.  Through  the  door,  the  light  coming  from 
the  large  ^\'indow  on  the  left,  one  saw  the  tall  canvas.  The 
portrait  finished,  one  forgot  the  canvas  and  became  conscious 
only  of  M.  Duret,  Sarasate,  or  of  Rosa  Corder  in  the  late  afternoon 
light.  I  remember  one  afternoon  he  met  me  at  the  front  door 
and  led  me  by  the  arm  to  the  foot  of  the  steps,  saying,  "There 
1881-87]  3 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

he  is,  eh  ?  Isn't  that  it,  eh  ?  All  balanced  by  the  bow,  you 
know.  See  how  he  stands  !  "  It  was  Sarasate,  and  when  the 
picture  was  exhibited.  Whistler  said,  "  They  talk  about  my 
painting  Sarasate  standing  in  a  coal-cellar,  and  stupidities  like 
that.  I  only  know  that  he  looked  just  as  he  does  in  my  picture 
when  I  saw  him  play  in  St.  James's  Hall."  ' 

"  Later  on.  Whistler  brought  out  The  Falling  Rocket. 
'  Well  now,  what  do  you  think  of  that  ?     What  is  it  ?  ' 

"  I  said  fireworks,  and  I  supposed  one  of  the  Cremorne 
pictures. 

"  '  Oh,  you  know,  do  you  ?  It's  the  finest  thing  that  ever 
was  done.  Critics  pitch  into  it.  But  bring  tots,  idiots, 
imbeciles,  blind  men,  children,  anything  but  Englishmen 
or  Ruskin,  here,  and  of  course  they  know — even  you,  who 
stole  the  name — oh,  shocking  ! — of  my  Little  Venice.'' 

"  This  remark  referred  to  an  etching  of  mine  which  had 
been  published  under  the  title  of  Little  Venice.  Why 
Whistler  did  not  resent  this  for  long,  nor  let  it  interfere 
with  our  friendship  later,  I  do  not  know,  for  Mr.  Frederick 
Keppel  has  told  me  he  felt  bitterly  about  it  at  the  time  : 

'  I  remember  every  word  of  my  colloquy  with  Whistler  about 
j'ourself.  It  took  place  at  his  apartments,  Tite  Street,  Chelsea. 
I  had  casually  mentioned  your  name,  when  Whistler  said  in  a  dry 
and  careless  way,  "  I  don't  know  him." — "  Joseph  Pennell,"  I 
answered. — "  Never  heard  of  him  !  "  said  Wliistler. — "  Whj',  hang 
it,"  said  I,  "  you  know  him  perfectly  well, — Joseph  Pennell,  the 
artist !  " — "  Oh  !  "  said  Whistler,  "  that  man.  I  once  knew  him  but 
I  don't  know  him  now.  He  had  the  audacity  to  appropriate  the 
title  of  Little  Venice  to  one  of  his  etchings  ;  now  that  title  belongs 
to  me.     No,  I  don't  know  him  at  all."  ' 

"  Whistler  also  brought  out  some  of  the  pastelS:  little 
figures,  one  of  which  he  said  was  a  classic. 

"  And  he  talked,  and  again  I  forget  completely  what  he 
said  until,  finally,  I  suggested,  as  quietly  as  I  could,  what 
I  had  come  for,  and  there  was  no  reason  to  beat  about  the 
4  [1881-87 


PORTRAIT  OF  PABLO  SARASATE 

.IrraiisemrnI  in  Bltick 


STIUV    K()l{     THE     -SARASATK' 


AMONG    FRIENDS 

bush,  for  I  did  not  think  there  was  any  greater  honour  than 
to  see  one's  work  in  the  pages  of  the  Century. 

"  I  do  not  recollect  exactly  how  he  refused.  There  was 
some  excuse  delightfully  made.  Then,  suddenly,  he  called 
for  some  one  who  appeared  from  a  corner.  And  Whistler 
said  to  him,  '  Here's  a  chance  for  you.  I  have  no  time. 
But  you  will  do  these  things.' 

"  This  was  not  at  all  what  I  had  bargained  for,  and  I  said 
so  promptly.  '  No,  Mr.  Whistler,  I  was  asked  to  come  here 
and  ask  you  to  let  us  have  some  drawings  of  Chelsea.  If 
you  cannot,  why  then,  I'll  make  them  myself.' 

"  '  Stay  and  lunch,'  Whistler  said,  and  there  was  lunch, 
a  wonderful  curry,  in  a  bright  dining-room — the  yellow  and 
blue  room.  Later  on,  he  took  me  down  to  the  Embankment, 
and,  though  it  seems  so  little  like  him,  showed  me  the  Carlyle 
statue  and  Turner's  little  old  house.  He  pointed  out  his 
own  houses  in  Lindsey  Row,  and  told  me  of  an  old  photo- 
grapher, who  had  reproduced  all  his  pictures  and  who  had 
photographed  all  the  bits  of  old  Chelsea,  pulled  down  of  recent 
years.  I  remember,  too,  asking  Whistler  about  the  Thames 
plates,  and  his  telling  me  they  were  all  done  on  the  spot. 
And  then  he  drove  down  in  a  cab  with  me  to  Piccadilly,  and 
asked  me  to  come  and  see  him  again. 

"  The  next  Sunday  I  went  with  Mr.  Stephen  Parrish  to 
see  Haden  at  his  house  in  Harley  Street.  We  were  taken 
to  the  top  of  the  house  where  Haden  was  working  on  the 
mezzotint  of  the  Breaking  up  of  the  Agamemnon.  I  asked 
him — I  must  have  almost  paralysed  him  by  doing  so — what 
he  thought  of  Whistler,  and  he  told  me  that  if  ever  he  had 
to  sell  either  his  collection  of  Whistlers  or  of  Rembrandts, 
the  Rembrandts  should  go  first.  Downstairs,  in  a  sort  of 
conservatory  at  the  back  of  the  dining-room,  was  the  printing 
press.  Lady  Haden  was  very  charming  and  joined  us  at 
lunch.  So  also  did  Mr.  Hopkinson  Smith,  resurrecting  vast 
1881-87]  5 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

numbers  of  American  '  chestnuts.'  I  can  recall  that  both 
Parrish  and  I  found  him  very  much  in  the  way,  and  I  can 
also  recall  his  getting  us  into  such  a  state  that,  as  we  came 
down  one  of  the  streets  leading  into  Piccadilly,  Parrish 
vented  his  irritation  on  one  of  the  public  goats  which,  in 
those  days,  acted  both  as  scavengers  and  police  for 
London.  As  the  goat  put  down  his  head  to  defend  him- 
self, Parrish  put  up  his  umbrella,  and  the  goat  fled  into 
the  open  door  of  a  club.  What  happened  after  that  we  did 
not  wait  to  discover. 

"  I  saw  Whistler  only  once  more  that  summer.  He  was  in 
Charing  Cross  station,  standing  in  front  of  the  bookstall. 
He  Avore  a  black  frock  coat,  white  trousers,  patent  leather 
shoes,  top  hat,  and  he  was  carrying,  the  only  time  I  ever 
saw  it,  the  long  cane.  I  did  not  speak  to  him,  and  I  liked 
his  looks  still  less  than  when  I  first  met  him.  Because  people, 
ignorantly,  called  this  costume  Bohemian  and  eccentric, 
the  idea  got  about  that  he  was  slovenly  and  careless.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  there  was  no  more  carefully  dressed  man  in 
London. 

"  Early  in  the  autumn  of  1884  we  went  to  Italy,  and  it 
was  several  years  before  I  began  to  meet  Whistler  often,  and 
really  got  to  know  him,  and  understand  that  his  appearance 
was  to  him  merely  a  part  of  the  'joke  of  life.'  " 

Mr.  Keppel,  who,  with  Mr.  Avery,  was  one  of  the  first  to 
make  Whistler's  etchings  known  in  America,  saw  him  at  this 
same  period  and  his  record  of  his  first  visit  to  Tite  Street 
will  be  read  with  interest  as  a  parallel  to  J.'s.  It  has  always 
been  a  matter  of  regret  to  us  that  Whistler  soon  took  offence 
at  something  he  attributed  to  Mr.  Keppel.  We  often  tried 
to  bring  about  a  meeting  between  them,  for  we  knew  it 
would  smooth  out  the  difference,  but,  unhappily,  we  never 
succeeded.  Mr.  Keppel  writes  in  his  story  of  A  Day  ivith 
Whistler  : 
6  [1881-87 


AMONG    FRIENDS 

"  Our  first  meeting,  long  years  ago,  took  place  at  his  rooms 
in  Tite  Street,  Chelsea.     My  errand  did  not  concern  myself  at  all  : 
I  simply  undertook  to  deliver  to  him  a  picture  entrusted  to  me  at 
Whistler's  request  by  an  absent  friend  of  his,  who  told  me  in 
French  parlance  the  master  would  be  visible  from  nine  to  ten 
o'clock  every  morning.     I  reached  his  house  about  half-past  nine, 
and  was  admitted  by  a  servant,  who  showed  me  into  a  reception 
room  in  which  the  prevailing  colour  scheme  was  a  pale  and  delicate 
yellow.     The  room  at  first  looked  bare  and  empty,  yet  its  general 
effect  was  both  novel  and  pleasing.     Having  sent  up  my  card, 
upon  which  I  had  written  a  memorandum  stating  the  cause  of 
my  visit,  I  soon  heard  a  light  step,  and  a  moment  later  I  set  eyes  on 
Whistler  for  the  first  time.     It  was  his  humour  not  to  enter  his 
own  reception  room,  but  to  remain  at  the  threshold  glaring  at  me 
through  his  monocle  and  holding  his  watch  open  in  his  hand. 
There  he  was — the  Whistler  of  so  many  portraits  and  so  many 
caricatures — a  slender,  alert  little  man,  but  so  gracefully  propor- 
tioned, that,  as  he  stood  framed  in  his  own  doorway,  it  was  not 
easy  to  determine  whether  he  was  big,  middle-sized  or  small.  .  .  . 
He  said  :  '  Now,  I  have  just  four  minutes  to  spare  ;  what  is  it  that 
you  want  ?  '     Let  me  here  confess  that  I  felt  somewhat  nettled  at 
this  unexpected  reception — seeing  that  I  had  come  long  miles  out 
of  my  way  solely  to  oblige  an  absent  friend  of  his  and,  incidentally, 
to  obhge  Whistler  himself — and  so  I  set  myself  to  break  down  the 
repellent  pose  which  he  saw  fit  to  assume.  Having  delivered  to  him 
the  little  picture  which  I  had  brought,  I  gave  him  no  immediate 
opening  to  snub  me  further.     With  this  intent  I  talked  about  the 
friend  who  had  sent  me  to  him  ;    I  described  to  him  the  fine 
position  in  which  liis  own  contribution  to  the  Paris  Salon  had  been 
hung  ;   I  told  him  some  flattering  things  which  had  been  said  by 
the  right  sort  of  people  about  it ;  I  gave  him  news,  which  I  knew 
would  interest  him,  of  other  friends  of  his,  and,  like  Browning's 
hero,  I  kept  up  '  any  noise  bad  or  good,'  until  he  so  far  unbent  as  to 
enter  the  room  where  I  was.     Abruptly  he  then  put  the  question  to 
me  :  '  Are  you  fond  of  pictures  ?  '     To  this  I  made  answer  :  '  Such 
pictures  as  may  be  seen  here,  yes.'     '  Come  to  the  studio,'  said  he  ; 
and  thus  began  a  memorable  day  which  only  ended  when  he  had  to 
go  out  to  dine  at  eight  in  the  evening,  and  even  then  he  delayed — 
calmly  remarking  that  people  always  waited  dinner  for  him  no 
matter  how  late  he  came.     This  long  day  vas  passed  in  the 
studio,  except  when  we  adjourned  to  the  dining-room  for  lunch, 
1881-87]  7. 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

where  I  remember  that  the  table  was  decorated  with  yellow 
flowers  and  that  the  dishes  were  hoUow,  the  hoUow  space  being 
filled  with  boiling  water  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  the  eatables  hot. 

"  But  it  was  in  his  studio  that  Whistler  was  at  his  brightest 
and  best.  Surely  never  was  a  man  so  far  removed  from  being  com- 
monplace. Hisalert  wit  kept  flashing  like  summer  lightning.  .  .  . 
Much  of  his  talk  that  day  was  of  a  denunciatory  character.  Some 
eminent  persons  were  severely  castigated,  but  the  vials  of  his 
bitterest  wrath  were  poured  on  the  devoted  heads  of  certain 
prominent  artists,  and  more  especially  on  those  who  painted  por- 
traits. While  speaking  on  this  subject,  he  gave  expression  to  one 
opinion  which  seems  to  be  so  sound  and  right,  that  it  should  be 
recorded  here  :  '  To  paint  what  is  called  a  great  portrait  in 
England,'  said  he,  '  the  artist  must  overload  everything  with 
strong  contrasts  of  violent  colours.  His  success  with  the  rich, 
ignorant  public  is  assured  if  only  he  succeeds  in  setting  his  colours 
shouting  against  each  other.  Go  to  the  exhibition  at  the  Royal 
Academy  and  see  what  is  called  the  picture  of  the  year — Mr.  A.'s 
portrait  of  Mr.  B.  You  can  easily  find  it  by  seeing  the  crowd  that 
stands  staring  at  it  all  day  long.  Mix  with  this  crowd  and  get  near 
to  the  picture  ;  fill  your  eye  with  it ;  then  turn  round  and  look  at 
the  faces  of  the  living  spectators — how  quiet  in  tone  they  are  !  If 
A.'s  portrait  is  right,  surely  every  hving  man  and  woman  you  see 
in  the  crowd  must  be  wrong  !  ' 

"  From  all  this  depressing  pessimism,  he  rapidly  turned  to 
another  subject,  which  he  proceeded  to  treat  with  enthusiastic 
optimism  ;  for  he  began  to  talk  of  his  own  works. 

"  There  was  standing  on  a  perpendicular  easel  in  the  studio 
his  superb  portrait  of  the  violinist,  Sarasate — the  same  picture 
which  afterwards  created  such  a  sensation  at  the  Paris  Salon. 
The  delighted  artist  conducted  me  through  a  doorway  which  faced 
the  picture,  and,  further  on,  to  the  end  of  a  long  corridor.  There 
turning  round,  we  gazed  on  the  picture  framed  in  a  vista  of  corridor 
and  doorway.  Laying  his  hand  on  my  shoulder  he  said  to  me  : 
'  Now,  isn't  it  beautiful  ?  '  'It  certainly  is,'  I  answered.  '  No,' 
said  he, '  but  isn't  it  beautiful  ?  '  '  It  is  indeed,'  I  replied.  Then, 
raising  his  voice  to  a  scream,  with  a  not  too  wicked  blasphemy, 
and  bringing  his  hand  down  upon  his  knee  with  a  bang,  so  as  to 
give  superlative  emphasis  to  the  last  word  of  his  sentence,  he  cried, 

' it !    Isn't  it  beautiful  ?  '   If  I  could  do  no  other 

thing  as  well  as  Whistler,  I  could  at  least  shout  as  loud  as  he  could 

[1881-87 


AMONG    FRIENDS 

scream,  so  turning  to  him,  and  adopting  his  httle  '  swear  word  ' 

(as  a  quotation,  of  course)  I  shouted  into  his  face  ' it, 

it  is  !  '     This  third  declaration  seemed  to  satisfy  him,  and  so  we 
returned  to  the  studio. 

"  More  manifestations  of  his  delight  in  his  own  work  were  to 
follow  :  He  had  just  received  the  proof  sheets  of  his  now  famous 
book.  The  Gentle  Art  of  Making  Enemies  *  and  he  asked  me  to  read 
some  of  it  aloud,  so  that  he  could  '  hear  how  it  sounded.'  Now  I 
believe  it  is  not  possible  for  any  one  to  read  a  piece  of  fine  Utera- 
ture  aloud,  and  to  do  it  well,  unless  he  has  read  it  before  and 
knows  what  is  coming  in  the  text ;  and  so  I  was  not  at  all  sur- 
prised when,  after  I  had  read  a  few  pages  to  him,  he  called  out 
'  Stop  !  You  are  murdering  it !  Let  me  read  it  to  you.'  He  was 
quite  right ;  I  was  murdering  it !  So  we  changed  places.  He 
read  his  own  book  admirably,  and  kept  at  it  for  about  two  hours." 

•  In  one  particular  Mr.  Keppel  is  wrong.     What  Whistler  read  to  him  must  have 
been  the  notes  for  the  Ten  o'Clock — The  Oen&e  Art  was  not  pubUshed  until  1890. 


1881-87] 


CHAPTER  XXVI.  AMONG  FRIENDS. 
THE  YEARS  EIGHTEEN  EIGHTY- 
ONE  TO  EIGHTEEN  EIGHTY-SEVEN 
CONTINUED 

WHISTLER  said  he  could  not  afford  to  keep  a  friend, 
but  he  was  never  without  one,  never  without 
many.  A  photograph,  taken  in  his  studio  in  1881, 
shows  who  a  few  of  these  friends  now  were.  In  it  he  is 
the  centre  of  a  group  of  five  ;  the  four  others  are  Julian 
and  Waldo  Story,  the  artists,  sons  of  W.  W.  Story  ;  Frank 
Miles,  a  painter  from  whom  great  things  were  expected,  but 
who  died  before  they  were  realised  ;  and  the  Hon.  Frederick 
Lawless,  a  sculptor.  In  the  background  of  the  photograph 
is  the  little  statuette  everybody  wanted  to  know  the  merit 
of,  which  was  explained  one  day  by  Whistler,  "  Well,  you 
know — why — you  can  take  it  up  and — you  can  set  it  down  !  " 
Mr.  Lawless  writes  us  that  Whistler  modelled  the  little 
figure,  though  we  never  heard  from  Whistler  that  he  modelled 
anything,  and  though  Professor  Lanteri,  among  others  who 
frequently  visited  him  at  this  time,  assures  us  that  he  never 
knew  Whistler  as  sculptor.     Mr.  Lawless  says  : 

"  When  Whistler  lived  in  liis  London  studio,  he  often  modelled 
graceful  statuettes,  and  one  day  he  put  up  one  on  a  vase,  asking  me 
to  photograph  it.  I  said  he  must  stand  beside  it.  He  said,  '  But 
we  must  make  a  group  and  all  be  photographed,  and  that  I  was 
to  call  out  to  his  servant  when  to  take  the  lid  off  the  camera,  and 
when  to  put  it  back.'   I  then  developed  the  negative  in  his  studio." 

Mr.  Francis  James  was  another  friend  as  often  at  13  Tite 
10  [1881-87 


I 


o 

3 


i 


AMONG    FRIENDS 

Street  as  he  had  been  at  21  Cheyne  Walk,  with  many 
memories  of  days  and  evenings  there,  especially  of  one 
summer  evening  when  M.  Coquelin,  Aine,  and  a  large 
party  came  to  supper,  and  Whistler  kept  them  until  dawn 
and  then  took  them  to  see  the  sun  rise  over  the  Thames,  a 
spectacle  few  of  them  had  ever  before  witnessed. 

For  two  or  three  years  nobody  was  more  intimately  and 
sympathetically  associated  with  Whistler  than  Sir  Rennell 
Rodd,  the  present  Minister  for  Great  Britain  at  Stockholm. 
Of  their  friendship,  in  which  the  only  break  was  caused  by 
the  absence  of  one  or  the  other  from  London,  Sir  Rennell 
Rodd  writes  us  : 

"  It  was  in  '82,  '83  that  I  saw  most  of  him — in  Tite  Street,  not 
the  White  House.  That  liad  aheady  passed  into  the  hands  of 
Quilter.  But  there  was  another  house  nearly  next  door  where  he 
had  a  studio.  Frank  Sliles,  Waldo  and  Julian  Story,  Walter 
Sickert,  Harper  Pennington,  and,  at  one  time,  Oscar  Wilde,  were 
constantly  there.  Jimmy,  unlike  many  artists,  hked  a  camarade 
about  the  place  while  he  was  working,  and  talked  and  laughed  and 
raced  about  all  the  time,  putting  in  the  touches  delicately,  after 
matured  thought,  ten  yards  away,  with  preternaturally  long 
brushes.  There  was  a  poor  fellow  who  had  been  a  designer  for 
Minton — but  his  head  had  given  way,  and  he  was  already  quite 
mad — used  to  be  there  day  after  day  for  months,  and  draw  in- 
numerable sketches  on  scraps  of  brown  paper,  cartridge  boards, 
anything — often  full  of  talent  but  always  mad.  Well,  Jimmy 
humoured  him  and  made  his  last  weeks  of  liberty  happy  in 
their  way.  Eventually  he  had  to  be  removed  to  an  asylum,  and 
died  raving  mad.  I  used  to  help  Whistler  often  with  printing 
his  etchings.  It  was  very  laborious  work.  He  would  manijiu- 
late  a  plate  for  hours  with  the  ball  of  the  thumb  and  the  flat  of 
the  palm  to  get  just  the  right  superficial  ink  left  on  the  plate, 
while  I  damped  and  roughed  the  paper,  which  came  out  of  old 
folio  volumes,  the  first  and  last  sheets,  with  a  fairly  stiff  brush. 
And  of  en  for  a  whole  morning's  work,  only  one  or  two  prints 
were  achieved  which  satisfied  his  critical  eye,  and  the  rest 
would  be  destroyed.  There  was  a  Venetian  one  wliich  gave 
him  infinite  trouble  in  the  printing. 
1881-87]  II 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

"  He  was  the  kindest  of  men  to  his  old  friends,  though  he  was 
indeed  too  handy  with  his  wand-like  cane.  In  any  financial  trans- 
action he  was  scrupulously  honourable,  though,  of  course,  he 
never  had  much  money  at  his  disposal. 

"  We  had  great  fun  over  the  many  correspondences  and  the 
catalogues  elaborated  in  those  days  in  Tite  Street.  .  .  .  He  was 
demoniacal  in  controversy  and  the  spirit  of  elfin  mischief  was 
developed  in  him  to  the  point  of  genius.  .  .  .  Pellegrini  *  was 
much  at  Whistler's  in  those  days  also,  and  in  a  way  the  influence 
of  Whistler  was  fatal  to  him.  His  admiration  for  him  was 
unbounded,  and  he  abandoned  his  owti  legitimate  art,  in  which, 
as  Jimmy  used  to  say,  '  he  had  taught  all  the  others  what  none 
of  them  had  been  able  to  learn,'  and  took  to  trjing  to  paint  por- 
traits in  Whistler's  manner  without  any  success. 

"  One  of  the  few  modern  painters  I  have  ever  heard  him  praise 
was  Albert  Moore,  and  I  am  not  sure  that  was  not  to  some  extent 
due  to  a  personal  liking  for  the  man.  It  always  struck  me  his 
literary  judgments,  if  he  ever  happened  to  express  any,  were 
extraordinarily  sound  and  often  very  brilliant  in  summing  up 
the  merits  or  demerits  of  a  writer. 

"  He  had  also  an  extraordinary  power  of  putting  a  man  in  liis 
place,  if  the  occasion  warranted.  I  remember  a  breakfast  which 
Waldo  Story  gave  at  Dieudonne's.  Every  one  there  was  by  way 
of  having  painted  a  picture,  or  written  a  book,  or  in  some  way  or 
another  having  outraged  the  Phihstine,  with  the  exception  of  one 
young  gentleman,  whose  raison  d'etre  there  was  not  so  apparent 
as  was  the  height  of  his  collars  and  the  glory  of  his  attire.  He 
nevertheless  ventured  to  lay  down  the  law  on  certain  matters  which 
seemed  beyond  his  province,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  combat 
some  dictum  of  the  master's,   who,   readjusting  his  eye-glass, 

*  Carlo  Pellegrini  was  an  Italian  artist  who  came  to  England  and  drew  caricatures, 
under  the  names  of  Singe  and  Ape,  for  Vanity  Fair.  These  caricatures,  unlike  the 
characterless,  artless  work  of  his  vastly  more  popular  successors  to-day,  were  works 
of  art,  and  not  the  mere  scrawls  of  unteachable  amateurs.  Whistler  always  appre- 
ciated his  work,  and  others  always  considered  that  the  caricature  of  Whistler  in 
the  overcoat  with  the  three  capes  was  more  of  a  portrait.  There  was  a  large  painting 
too,  a  full-length.  Whistler  in  evening-dress,  introduced,  for  some  reason  no  one  can 
now  explain  to  us,  in  one  of  the  Gaiety  burlesques.  "And  here  is  the  inventor  of 
black-and-white  "  was  announced,  and  Pellegrini,  we  have  been  told,  wheeled  the 
portrait,  on  an  easel,  on  to  the  stage.  It  fell  fiat,  it  seems,  and  it  is  hard  to-day  to 
see  where  the  point  could  have  been  supposed  to  lie.  The  picture  now  belongs  to 
a  collector  in  New  York. 
12  [1881-S7 


AMONG    FRIENDS 

looked    pleasantly    at    him,    and   said  :    '  And   whose  son   arc 
you  ?  ' 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  justice  done  to  my  dear  old  friend,  with 
whom  I  spent  some  of  the  best  moments  of  my  Hfe,  and  who 
greatly  flattered  me,  believing  him  one  of  the  very  few  geniuses  I 
have  kno\m,  by  caring  for  my  sympathy  and  appreciation." 

For  two  or  three  years,  Oscar  Wilde  was  so  much  wth 
Whistler  that  everybody  who  went  to  the  studio  found  him 
there,  just  as  everybody  who  went  much  into  society  saw 
the  two  men  together.  Wilde  had  come  up  from  Oxford 
not  long  before  the  Ruskin  trial,  bringing  with  him  a  repu- 
tation as  the  most  brilliant  undergraduate  who  had  ever 
flashed  upon  the  University,  as  the  winner  of  the  Newdigate 
prize,  and  as  the  apostle  of  "  beauty."  Many  a  reputation 
is  lost  on  the  way  between  Oxford  and  London,  but  his  was 
only  strengthened.  He  was  brilliant  among  men  of  the 
world,  witty  sayings  of  his  were  repeated  eagerly  and  his 
youth  seemed  to  excuse  the  affectation  of  his  pose  as  reformer. 
He  was  at  once  sought  after,  and  had  the  world  of  London 
at  his  feet.  It  was  natural  that,  of  all  the  men  he  met, 
none  should  appeal  to  him  more  powerfully  than  Whistler. 
At  Oxford,  Wilde  had  been  a  follower  of  Ruskin,  had  even 
broken  stones  for  that  famous  road  which  was  to  lead 
Ruskin's  young  enthusiasts  to  art  and  their  own  salvation  ; 
he  had  studied  under  Pater  ;  he  had  accepted  the  aesthetic 
principles  of  those  other  brilliant  young  men  who  were  at 
Oxford  before  him,  William  Morris  and  Burne-Jones  and 
therefore,  also,  of  their  master,  Rossetti.  But  Ruskin's 
waywardness  already  made  it  impossible  for  the  most  ardent 
to  follow  him  far.  Pater  was  a  recluse,  Rossetti's  health  was 
broken,  while  Morris  and  Burne-Jones  were  the  centres  of  a 
little  esoteric  group  of  their  own.  When  Wilde  came  to 
London,  Whistler  was  in  his  prime  as  man  and  artist ;  he 
was  prominent  in  the  greater  world  that  received  Wilde 
1881-87]  13 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

>vith  open  arms  ;  he  was  equally  sought  after,  and  he,  too,  took 
pleasure  in  the  fact.  His  daily  life  was  filled,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  with  the  elements  of  beauty  which  Wilde,  at  Oxford, 
had  cultivated  as  something  almost  sacred  and  sacramental. 
In  Tite  Street  rare  blue  and  white  was  set  out,  not  as  symbols 
of  the  true  faith,  but  for  everyday  use  ;  flowers  bloomed, 
not  as  pledges  of  "  culture,"  but  simplj'  for  their  colour 
and  grace  of  form  ;  beauty  was  accepted  as  no  new  dis- 
covery, but  as  the  one  and  only  end  of  art  since  the  first 
artist  drew  a  line  and  knew  it  to  be  beautiful.  Whistler  in 
himself  and  in  his  work,  quite  simply  and  with  no  parade, 
realised  all  that  to  the  undergraduate  had  been  theory  in 
need  of  a  prophet. 

It  was  as  natural  that  Wliistler,  on  his  side,  should  be 
flattered  by  the  homage  Wilde  paid  him.  He  was  looked 
upon  as  the  world's  jester  after  his  return  from  Venice  when 
Wilde's  devotion  drew  them  into  closer  intimacy.  The 
younger  men  who  were  now  gathering  about  ^Atistler,  had 
still  to  make  their  name  and  reputation.  Wilde's  name  was 
in  every  man's  mouth,  he  had  not  outworn  the  reputation 
brought  from  Oxford,  he  shone  with  the  splendour  of  the 
great  work  he  was  expected  to  produce.  He  was  the  most 
promising  poet  and  man  of  letters  of  his  generation.  To 
be  singled  out  for  his  allegiance  was  flattering.  More  than 
this,  to  have  his  companionship  was  amusing.  There  is  no 
question  of  the  charm  of  his  personahty.  We  remember 
our  delight  when  we  met  him  on  his  famous  lecture  tour  in 
America,  and  hardly  knew  whether  to  wonder  more  at  his 
magnificence  on  the  platform,  where  he  faced  with  calmness 
rows  of  college  boys  each  bearing  a  lily  and  stood  with 
composure  their  collective  emotion  as  he  sipped  a  glass  of 
water,  or  his  gaiety  and  exuberance  and  wit  when  we  talked 
■with  him  afterwards.  It  has  been  said  that  he  gave  the 
best  of  himself  in  his  talk.  If  Whistler  Uked  always  to 
14  [1881-87 


AMONG    FRIENDS 

have  some  one  with  him  in  the  studio,  his  pleasure  was 
increased  a  hundredfold  when  this  some  one  was  so  brilliant 
and  witty  as  Wilde  undoubtedly  was. 

For  a  while,  they  were  constant  companions.  Wilde 
spent  hours  in  the  studio,  he  came  repeatedly  to 
Whistler's  Sunday  breakfasts,  he  presided  at  Whistler's 
private  views.  Whistler  went  out  and  about  with  him 
everywhere.  There  were  few  social  functions  at  which  they 
were  not  both  conspicuous.  At  parties  and  receptions,  you 
could  count  upon  finding  the  company  divided  into  two 
groups,  one  gathered  round  Wliistler,  the  other  round  Wilde. 
It  was  the  fashion  to  compare  them.  To  the  world  that  ran 
after  them,  that  thought  itself  honoured,  or  notorious,  by 
their  presence,  they  seemed  inseparable  in  these  days — 
though  they  were  fundamentally  quite  unhke  one  another. 

It  was  inevitable  that  this  intimate  friendship  should 
prove  of  short  duration.  M.  Duret  thinks  the  trouble 
began  when  Whistler  discovered  how  shallow  was  Wilde's 
knowledge  of  art,  for  he  could  never  endure  anybody  in 
the  studio  who  did  not  imderstand  his  work  with  sympathy 
and  intelligence.  Certainly,  Whistler,  on  one  occasion, 
wrote  of  Wilde  as  of  a  man  "  with  no  more  sense  of  a  picture 
than  of  the  fit  of  a  coat."  The  Gentle  Art  shows  that  Whistler 
was  also  irritated  with  Wilde  for  borrowing  from  him,  as 
he  thought,  too  freely.  That  Oscar  Wilde  took  his  good 
where  he  found  it,  as  his  critics  said  of  him,  is  neither  more 
nor  less  than  what  genius  has  always  done — what  Whistler 
did  himself.  But  the  genius,  from  the  good  thus  taken, 
evolves  something  of  his  own.  Wilde,  at  the  high  tide  of 
his  social  triumph,  which  he  was  enjoying  with  all  the  zest 
of  youth,  was  content  to  shine  personjilly  and  to  let  the  great 
things  expected  of  him  wait.  The  drain  upon  his  intelligence 
and  his  wit  was  exhausting,  and,  probably  unconsciously, 
he  appropriated  and  reproduced  the  good  he  borrowed  from 
1881-87]  15 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

others  exactly  as  he  found  it.  \Mien  it  was  question  of  wit, 
there  was  no  one  to  whom  Wilde  could  go,  as  his  equal  or 
rather  as  his  superior,  except  WTiistler.  A  characteristic  story 
of  their  relations  in  this  respect  has  been  often  told. 
After  one  of  WTiistler's  brilliant  sallies,  W^ilde  said,  "  I  wish 
I  had  said  that.  Whistler."  "  You  will,  Oscar,  you  will," 
was  Whistler's  answer.  In  matters  of  art,  Wilde  had  every- 
thing to  learn  from  Whistler,  who,  though  ever  generous 
to  his  friends,  resented  Wilde's  preaching  as  his  original 
doctrines  the  truths  which  Whistler  had  taught  for  years. 
This  can  be  seen  very  plainly  in  The  Gentle  Art.  "  Oscar  " 
had  "  the  courage  of  the  opinions  ...  of  others  !  "  and 
again  :    "  Oscar  " 

"  went  forth,  on  that  occasion,  as  my  St.  John — but,  for- 
getting that  humility  should  be  his  chief  characteristic,  and 
unable  to  withstand  the  unaccustomed  respect  with  which 
his  utterances  were  received,  he  not  only  trifled  with  mj'  shoe, 
but  bolted  with  the  latchet  !  " 

]\Ir.  Alan  S.  Cole,  in  1884,  noted  in  his  diary  that  Wliistler 
"  was  strong  on  Oscar  Wilde's  notions  of  art  which  he  derived 
from  him  (Jimmy)."  Mr.  Herbert  Vivian  tells  the  storj^  of 
a  dinner  given  by  ^^^listler  after  Wilde  had  been  lecturing  : 

"  '  Xow,  Oscar,  tell  us  what  you  said  to  them,'  Whistler  kept 
insisting,  and  Wilde  had  to  repeat  all  the  phrases,  while  Wliistler 
rose  and  made  solemn  bows,  -with  his  hand  across  his  breast,  in 
mock  acceptance  of  liis  guests'  applause.  .  .  .  The  cruel  part  of 
the  plagiarism  lay  in  the  fact  that,  when  Mr.  Whistler  pubhshed 
his  Ten  o'Clock,  many  people  thought  it  had  all  been  taken  from 
Wilde's  lecture." 

It  was  doubly  provoking  because  it  seemed  as  if  by  his 
indiscriminate  lecturing,  Wilde's  endeavour  was  to  force 
art  upon  the  middle  classes,  to  whom  Whistler  believed  it 
could  only  be  disastrous  in  its  influence.  Altogether, 
Whistler  grew  more  and  more  exasperated  by  the  use  he 
16  [1881-87 


^v 


AMONG    FRIENDS 

thought  Wilde  was  making  of  him  until  the  merest  trifle 
irritated  him.  Their  friendship  was  closest  in  the  early 
'eighties  when  Whistler  was  bewildering  the  world  by 
deliberate  eccentricities  of  dress,  eccentricities  which  Wilde 
copied  rather  clumsily.  The  world,  that  did  not  know 
them  personally,  soon  mistook  one  for  the  other  and 
actually  supposed  Whistler  to  be  as  much  the  founder 
of  the  so-called  "  Esthetic "  fad  of  the  day  as  Wilde, 
When  Gilbert  and  Sullivan's  opera  Patience  was  produced, 
Bunthorne,  who  was  obviously  intended  for  Wilde,  appeared 
with  Whistler's  black  curls  and  white  lock,  moustache, 
"  tuft,"  and  single  eye-glass  and  laughed  with  Whistler's 
familiar  "  ha !  ha !  "  When  Whistler  saw  Wilde  in  a 
Polish  cap  and  "  green  overcoat  befrogged,  and  wonder- 
fully befurred,"  he  desired  him  to  "  restore  those  things 
to  Nathan's,  and  never  again  let  me  find  you  masquerading 
the  streets  of  my  Chelsea  in  the  combined  costumes  of 
Kossuth  and  Mr.  Mantalini !  "  To  be  in  danger  of  losing, 
in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  his  own  marked  individuality  was 
bad  enough,  but  to  have  his  own  studied  eccentricities 
handed  over  to  another  man  who  rendered  them  ridiculous 
was  worse.  No  one  probably  summed  up  the  position 
better  than  the  Times  reviewer  noticing  Wilde's  recently 
published  Collected  Works. 

"  With  a  mind  not  a  jot  less  keen  than  Whistler's,  he  had 
none  of  the  conviction,  the  high  faith,  for  which  Whistler  found 
it  worth  W'hile  to  defy  the  crowd.  Wilde  had  poses  to  attract  tlie 
crowd.  And  the  difference  was  this,  that  while  Wliistler  was  a 
prophet  who  hked  to  play  Pierrot,  Wilde  grew  into  a  Pierrot  who 
liked  to  play  the  prophet." 

It  would  have  been  more  exact  to  say  that  if  Whistler 
ever  played  Pierrot,  it  was  with  a  purpose.  Where  art 
was  concerned,  he  was  serious,  and  could  endure  no  trifling, 
could  countenance  no  shams.  At  this  period,  Wilde  was 
1881-87]  n:B  17 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

serious  about  nothing.  Like  Mr.  Rose  in  the  New  Republic, 
his  two  topics  were  "  self-indulgence  and  art,"  and  his 
interest  in  both  was  but  part  of  his  youthful  pose  and  bid 
for  notoriety.  He  might  jest  about  himself  but  his  flippancy, 
if  art  was  his  subject,  became  to  Whistler  a  crime.  The 
only  way  he  showed  his  resentment  was  by  refusing  to 
take  Wilde  seriously  about  anything.  Even  Avhen  Wilde  was 
married,  he  was  not  allowed  to  forget  this,  for  Whistler 
telegraphed  to  the  church,  "  Fear  I  may  not  be  able  to 
reach  you  in  time  for  the  ceremony.  Don't  wait."  Later, 
in  Paris,  he  called  Wilde  "  Oscar,  bourgeois  malgre  lui,"  a 
wtticism  none  could  appreciate  better  than  the  Parisians. 
As  soon  as  he  began  to  make  a  jest  of  Wilde,  he  ended,  once 
and  for  all,  that  friendship  to  which,  while  it  lasted,  London 
society  owed  so  much  gaiety  and  brilliancy. 

The  relation  between  ^Vllistler  and  many  of  the  artists  now 
often  in  the  studio  was  less  that  of  friends  than  of  Master 
and  Followers,  as  they  called  themselves.  He  was  forty- 
six  when  he  returned  from  Venice,  and  there  were  men  of 
the  new  generation  who  shared  none  of  the  doubt  of  his 
contemporaries,  but  who  believed  in  his  art  and  looked  up 
to  him  as  artist.  Whistler  always  had  the  power  of  attracting 
people  to  him,  and  the  devotion  of  one  special  group  became 
almost  infatuation.  They  were  ready  to  do  anything  for  him. 
We  have  heard  of  families  estranged  and  of  engagements  of 
marriage  broken  because  of  him.  They  fought  his  battles  ; 
ran  his  errands  ;  spied  out  the  land  for  him  ;  read  his  letters, 
when  he  wished  it,  to  everybody  they  met.  They  formed 
a  genuine  little  court  about  him.  They  exaggerated  every- 
thing, even  their  devotion,  and  became,  virtually,  cari- 
catures of  Whistler,  as  excessive  in  their  imitation  as  in 
their  devotion.  He  denied  the  right  of  any,  save  the  artist, 
to  speak  authoritatively  of  art ;  they  started  a  club  to 
train  the  Classes — Princes,  Prime  Ministers,  Patrons,  Am- 
i8  [1881-87 


AMONG    FRIENDS 

bassadors.  Members  of  Parliament — to  blind  faith  in  Master 
and  Followers.  Whistler  mixed  his  colours  before  putting 
them  on  the  palette,  filling  little  tubes  with  them ;  the 
Followers  mixed  theirs  in  vegetable  dishes  and  kept  them  in 
milk  cans,  labelled  Floor,  Face,  Hair,  Lips.  He  had  a 
table  palette  ;  they  adopted  it,  but  added  hooks  to  hang 
their  cans  of  paint  on.  He  used  his  paint  very  liquid — the 
"  sauce  "  of  the  Nocturnes  ;  they  used  such  quantities  of 
medium  that  as  much  went  on  the  floor  as  on  the  canvas,  and, 
before  a  picture  was  blocked  in,  they  were  wading  in  liquid 
masterpieces.  Many  of  his  brushes  were  very  large  ;  they 
worked  with  whitewash  brushes.  They  copied  his  personal 
peculiarities  as  assiduously.  As  an  example  of  the  absurd 
lengths  to  which  they  would  go,  it  is  said  that  one  evening 
at  a  dinner  when  he  wore  a  white  waistcoat  and  all  the 
buttons  fell  out  owing  to  the  carelessness  of  the  laundress, 
a  young  painter,  seeing  it  buttonless,  hurried  from  the  room 
and  returned  with  his  in  the  same  condition,  under  the 
impression  that  Whistler  had  set  a  new  fashion. 

Whistler  accepted  their  devotion,  and,  finding  them 
willing  to  squander  their  time  upon  him,  monopolised  it  as 
willingly.  There  was  always  plenty  for  everybody  to  do 
for  him  in  the  studio.  If  they  afterwards  complained  that 
he  took  advantage  of  them,  he  proved  to  them  that  the 
fault  was  theirs.     Mr.  Menpes  writes  : 

"  We  seldom  asked  Whistler  questions  about  his  work.  .  . 
If  we  had,  he  would  have  been  sure  to  say,  '  Pshaw  !  you  must 
be  occupied  with  the  Master,  not  with  yourselves.  There  is 
plenty  to  be  done.'  If  there  was  not,  Wliistler  would  always 
make  a  task  for  you — a  picture  to  be  taken  in  to  the  Dowdeswells', 
or  a  copper-plate  to  have  a  ground  put  on  it." 

No  one  respected  the  work  of  others  more  than  Whistler. 
But  if  others  did  not  respect  it  themselves  and  made  him  a 
present  of  their  time,  he  did  not  refuse.  If  he  allowed  them 
1881-87]  19 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

to  accompany  him  in  his  Httle  journeys,  it  was  because  they 
were  so  eager  to  be  useful.  When  he  went  with  two  of  the 
Followers  to  St.  Ives,  in  the  winter  of  1883-84,  they  were  up 
at  six  o'clock  because  it  pleased  him,  and  they  scarcely 
dared  eat  unless  he  rang  the  bell.  One  prepared  his  panels, 
mixed  his  colours,  and  cleaned  his  brushes,  taking  a  day 
off  for  fishing  if  Whistler  chose,  dutifully  abjuring  the 
right  to  sentiment  if  he  objected.  The  chances  are  that 
Whistler  saw  the  humour  in  this  attitude  towards  him 
more  clearly  than  anybody,  and  was,  on  that  account,  the 
more  exacting.  It  was  said  that  the  Followers  were  not 
allowed  by  him  even  to  rely  upon  their  own  opinions.  Mr. 
Sidney  Starr  writes  that  once,  when  Mr.  Walter  Sickert 
ventured  to  praise  Leighton's  Harvest  Moon,  at  the  Man- 
chester Art  Treasures  Exhibition,  Whistler,  hearing  of  it, 
telegraphed  :  "  The  Harvest  Moon  rises  over  Hampstead 
[where  Mr.  Sickert  lived]  and  the  cocks  of  Chelsea  crow." 
The  Followers,  however,  knew  that  if  they  were  of  use  to 
Whistler,  he  was  infinitely  of  more  use  to  them,  and  that 
submission  to  his  rule  and  exposure  to  his  wit  were  a  small 
price  to  pay  for  all  he  helped  them  to  learn. 

Even  Mr.  Menpes,  who,  in  Whistler  as  I  Knew  Him,  makes 
more  of  the  follies  than  the  advantages  of  the  Followers, 
cannot  entirely  ignore  their  debt  to  Whistler.  It  was  their 
privilege  to  work  with  him  not  only  in  the  studio,  but  in 
the  street,  hunting  with  him  for  his  little  shops,  corners 
and  models,  and  painting  at  his  side  ;  often  walking  home 
with  him,  after  a  dinner-party  or  supper  at  the  club,  and 
being  trained  by  him  to  observe  and  memorise,  as  he  did, 
the  night  and  its  effects.  It  was  their  privilege  to  know 
him  as  the  artist  absorbed  in  his  work  and  full  of  kindliness 
to  the  student,  when  to  the  world  he  often  seemed  both 
insolent  and  audacious. 

American  artists,  in  London  or  passing  through,  began 

20  [18SI-87 


PORTRAIT  OF  MONSIEUR  THEODORE  DURET 

Arrmisemenl  in  Flesh  Cohnr  and  BlacI; 


AMONG     FRIENDS 

to  make  their  way  to  his  studio.  Mr.  Otto  Bacher  has 
pubhshed  in  the  Century  recollections  of  his  stay  in  London 
in  1883,  of  Whistler's  friendliness,  of  the  pictures  he  saw  in 
the  studio,  of  their  dining  together  nightly.  In  1885,  Mr. 
John  W.  Alexander  came  commissioned  by  the  Century  to 
make  a  drawing  of  him  for  a  series  of  portraits  of  distinguished 
men  it  proposed  to  publish.  Mr.  Alexander  tells  us  that 
Whistler  posed  for  a  little  while  very  unwillingly,  and  criticised 
the  drawing  so  long  and  so  severely  that  Mr.  Alexander  finally 
tore  it  up.  After  that,  he  says.  Whistler  posed  like  a  lamb. 
Mr.  Harper  Pennington  has  written  for  us  his  reminiscences 
of  those  years  : 

"...  Whistler  was  more  than  kind  to  me.  Through  him 
came  everything.  He  introduced  me  right  and  left,  and  called 
me  '  pupil '  in  so  doing  :  took  me  about  to  picture  shows  and 
pointed  out  the  good  and  bad.  I  remember  my  astonishment  the 
first  occasion  of  his  giving  quite  unstinted  praise  to  modern  work, 
on  which  he  seldom  lavished  even  positives.  It  was  at  the  Royal 
Academy  before  one  of  those  modern  interiors  of  Orchardson's 
(for  whom  Whistler  had  expressed  the  most  sincere  appreciation). 
WeU  !  he  stood,  delighted  in  front  of  the  canvas,  his  hat  almost 
on  his  nose,  his  '  tuft '  sticking  straight  out  as  it  did  when  he  would 
catch  his  nether  lip  between  liis  teeth — and,  presently,  a  long 
forefinger  went  out  and  circled  round  a  specially  well-painted  bit 
of  yellow  drapery — '  It  would  have  been  nice  to  have  painted 
that,'  he  said — almost  as  if  he  thought  aloud. 

"  Another  day  we  rushed  to  the  National  Gallery — '  just  to 
get  the  taste  out  of  our  mouths,'  he  said — after  a  couple  of  hours 
wandering  in  the  Royal  Academy  wilderness  of  Hardy  Annual 
Horrors.  Whistler  went  at  once  to  almost  smell  the  Canalettos, 
while  I  went  across  the  Gallery,  attracted  by  the  Marriage  d,  la 
Mode  series — and  no  \\onder  !  It  was  my  first  sight  of  them. 
Up  to  that  day  I  had  supposed  that  what  I  was  told,  and  liad  read, 
of  Hogarth  was  the  truth — the  silly  rubbish  about  his  being 
only  a  caricaturist  and  so  forth  and  so  on  ;  so  that  when  confronted 
with  those  marvels  of  technical  quality,  I  fairly  gasped  for 
breath,  and — long  before  I  had  more  than  skimmed  along  the 
line  of  pictures — hurried  over  to  where  Whistler  had  his  nose 
1881-87]  21 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

against  the  largest  Canaletto,  seized  his  arm,  and  said  hurriedly, 
'  Come  over  here  quickly  !  '  '  What's  the  matter  ?  '  said  he, 
turning  round.  '  Why  ! — Hogarth  !— He  was  a  great  Painter  !  ' 
'  Sh — sh  !  '  said  he  (pretending  he  was  afraid  that  some  one  would 
overhear  us).  '  Sh— sh — yes  ! — I  know  it !  .  .  .  But  don't 
you  tell  'em  / '  Later,  Hogarth  was  thoroughly  discussed  and 
his  qualities  pointed  out  vrith  that  incisive  manner  which  one  had 
to  be  familiar  with  to  fully  understand. 

"  Whistler  was  reasonable  enough,  not  implacable,  and  preferred 
a  joke  to  a  serious  battle  any  day.  Often  he  came  to  me  in 
the  King's  Road,  breatliing  vengeance  against  this  or  that  oflPensive 
person,  but  when  he  went  away  it  was  invariably  with  a  fin  sourire 
and  one  of  his  delicious  little  over-alliterated  notes.  His  amazing 
clairvoyance  in  the  matter  of  two  notes  to  Leighton  was  made 
manifest  at  my  writing-table.  The  P.R.A.  wrote  a  very  lame 
explanation  to  Whistler's  first  query  as  to  why  he  had  not  been 
invited  to  the  Academy  soiree — as  President  of  the  R.S.B.A., 
'  ex-officio,'  or  '  as  Whistler.'  He  came  into  my  room,  one  morning 
early — before  I,  sluggard  !  was  awake — and  read  to  me  an  outline 
of  a  note  he  meant  to  write — the  merest  sketch  of  it,  and  then  set 
down  to  make  it,  with  all  the  grace  of  diction,  dainty  composition 
and  the  pretty  balanced  Butterfly  for  signature.  When  that  was 
done,  he  turned  to  me  (I  was  di-essing  then)  and  said — '  Now, 
Har-r-rpur-r-r  '  (he  liked  to  burr  those  Rs  in  '  down-east '  fashion). 
'  Now  Har-r-r-pur-r-r  '  I  know  Leighton — he  ^^^ll  fumble  this.  He 
will  answer  so  and  so — (describing  the  answer  Leighton  actually 
sent !) — and  then  I've  got  him  !  '  He  chuckled,  wrote  another 
note — the  retort  to  Leighton's  unwritten  answer  to  Whistler's  not 
yet  posted  first  note — which  he  read  to  me.  That  retort  was  sent 
almost  verbatim,  only  one  slight  change  made  necessary  by  a  turn 
of  phrase  in  Leighton's  weak  apology  !  That  was  '  Amazing  '  if 
you  like.  His  anger  soon  burst  out — the  obvious  jest  would  come 
— and  the  whole  thing  boiled  itself  do\\-n  to  a  quip  in  the  World, 
a  line  to  '  Labby,'  or  a  smart  impertinence,  with  just  sting  enough 
to  the  offender  himself. 

"  Of  course,  there  were  many  most  amusing  rencontres  in  my 
little  studio — where  we  all  played  together.  The  work  went  on 
downstairs  in  the  big  room.  Dick  (Corney)  Grain  came  there  of 
afternoons  to  try  his  new  song  ;  George  Macquay,  too  shy  to  sing 
in  company,  would  sit  there  warbling  for  hours,  playing  his 
accompaniments  enchantingly  !  Oscar  Wilde  dropped  in  every 
22  [1881-87 


AMONG    FRIENDS 

day  almost,  to  loll,  and;smoke,  and  talk  his  best,  while  I  worked 
away  at  my  easel  in  the  big  room — all  my  memories  are  good 
ones,  kindly,  gracious,  happy,  and  I  grieve  that  all  of  those  I 
spoke  of — frequenters  of  my  studio — except  Mac  quay,  are  dead. 
The  Beefsteak  table  would  be  peopled  by  the  spirits  of  Pellegrini, 
Arthur  Blouet,  Dick  Grain^Ali  !  tutti  quanti !  I  doubt  if 
jesting  is — or  can  be — half  as  witty  nowadays.  One  evening 
Whistler,  Labouchere,  and  I,  as  listener  (half  the  time  in  shouts 
of  laughter)  had  a  famous  set-to,  as  we  dined  on  grilled  things  at 
the  Steak.  Whistler  began  it,  a  firopos  of  the  Gold  Girl  which 
Labouchere  had  bought.  They  talked  American — French^ 
Enghsh — whatever  language  best  set  forth  the  spirit  of  their  rapid 
fencing.  Funny! — Good  Lord ! — I  never  yet  have  heard  sucli  talk  as 

Labonch&re. 

that !  And  they  sat  up  there,  grave  as  judges,  I  |  H.  P. 

J.  A.  MoN.  W. 

at  the  top  of  the  table,  disposed  as  I  have  drawn  them.     The 

other  diners  stretched  their  ears  to  find  out  what  those  men  could 

say  to  make  me  laugh  so  heartily — but,  bless  you  !   one  needed  to 

have  heard  the  First  word — then  all  the  rest  to  foUow  two  such 

master-wits,  both  at  tlieir  very  best,  both  quiet — solemn — never 

cracking  a  smile — and  thrusting  at  every  lunge  !     I  remember 

lots  of  things  they  said,  but  it  would  be  like  the  score  of  some 

dehcious  song — a  quantity  of  dots  and  lines  with  no  sound  to  give 

them  life." 


18SI-SS]  23 


CHAPTER  XXVII.  THE  STUDIO  IN 
THE  FULHAM  ROAD.  THE  YEARS 
EIGHTEEN  EIGHTY-FIVE  TO 
EIGHTEEN    EIGHTY-SEVEN 

IN  1885,  while  we  were  still  in  Italy,  Whistler  moved 
from  Tite  Street  and  took  a  studio  at  No.  454 
Fulham  Road,  not  far  from  the  Town  Hall,  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  street.  A  shabby  gate  leads  into  a  shabby 
lane  backed  by  a  group  of  studios,  of  which  his  was  one. 
Here  Lady  Archibald  Campbell,  M.  Buret,  and  other 
sitters  followed,  and  new  portraits  were  begun.  He  was 
living  at  the  time  with  "  Maud  "  in  a  little  house  close  by 
which  he  called  the  "  Pink  Palace,"  the  outside  of  which 
he  painted  himself.  Two  shops  have  taken  its  place.  But 
soon  he  moved  to  the  Vale,  Chelsea — "  an  amazing  place," 
he  said ;  "  you  might  be  in  the  heart  of  the  country, 
and  there,  two  steps  away,  is  the  King's  Road "  ;  the 
house  is  the  first  on  the  right  after  you  go  through  the  iron 
gates. 

Of  none  of  the  studios  or  rooms  in  which  he  had  worked 
up  to  this  time  do  such  accurate  records  remain.  It  was 
part  of  Whistler's  policy  during  these  years  to  keep  well 
before  the  public,  and  one  way  of  accomplishing  it  was  by 
granting  interviews  to  enterprising  young  journalists,  and 
helping  his  friends  in  their  descriptions  of  himself  and  his 
work  written  for  publication.  As  he  never  thought  any 
paper  too  insignificant  for  his  notice  when  to  answer  its 
criticism  gave  him  the  opportunity  to  make  the  statements 
24  [1885 


3IALU 


THE  STUDIO  IN  THE  FULHAM  ROAD 

he  wanted  to  make,  so  he  did  not  mind  where  these  inter- 
views appeared  so  long  as  they  did  appear  and  contained 
the  facts  he  wished  known.  One  of  the  most  interesting 
as  a  contemporary  record  of  the  'eighties  came  out  in  the 
Court  and  Society  Review  (July  1,  1886).  It  was  written 
by  Mr.  Malcolm  C.  Salaman,  and  its  interest  is  in  the  details 
it  gives  of  the  studio  and  the  work  then  to  be  seen  there,  and 
also  in  the  fact  that,  in  this  article,  Whistler  allowed 
A  Further  Proposition  to  be  printed  for  the  first  time,  as 
far  as  we  know,  and  a  definition  of  his  position  as 
artist  to  be  made  of  which  he  unmistakably  was  the 
inspiration. 

"  The  plain  white-washed  walls,  the  unadorned  wooden  rafters, 
which  partly  form  a  loft  for  the  stowing  away  of  numerous  can- 
vases, panels,  &c.,  the  vast  space  unencumbered  by  furniture,  and 
the  large  table-palette,  all  give  the  appearance  of  the  working  place 
where  serious  Art  alone  is  tolerated,  and  where  dilettantism  would 
be  an  impertinence.  Mr.  Whistler  is  not  so  feeble  as  to  aim  at 
theatrical  efifects  in  his  costume.  The  velvet  coat,  the  embroidered 
smoking-cap,  and  other  accessories  of  the  fashionable,  albeit  in- 
competent painter,  find  no  favour  in  his  eyes,  but  in  the  black 
clothes  of  his  ordinary  wear,  straight  from  the  street  or  the  garden, 
he  stands  at  work  at  his  easel.  To  those  accustomed  to  studios 
the  completeness  of  the  arrangement  of  model,  background,  and 
surroundings— exactly  in  accordance  with  the  scheme  of  the 
picture  that  is  in  progress — is  striking,  as  striking  indeed  as  the 
actual  personality  (always  remarkable)  of  the  talented  artist.  For 
his  whole  body  seems  instinct  with  energy  and  enthusiasm  for  his 
work,  his  face  Ut  up  with  flashes  of  quick  and  strong  thought,  as 
that  of  a  man  who  sees  with  his  brains  as  weU  as  with  his  eyes, 
and  his  brush-hand  electric  in  sympathy  with  both. 

"  A  word,  by  the  way,  about  Mr.  Whistler's  palette,  just  alluded 
to.  As  I  saw  it  the  other  day,  the  colours  were  systematically 
arranged,  almost  with  the  appearance  of  a  picture.  In  the  centre 
was  white  and  on  one  side  were  the  various  reds  leading  up  to 
black,  while  on  the  other  side  were  the  yellows  leading  up  to 
blue.  .  .  . 

"  And  now  a  few  words  about  some  of  the  pictures  which  the 
1886]  25 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

master  has  almost  ready  for  exhibition,  and  which  I  hope  the 
pubUc  will  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing.  A  full-length  figure  of 
a  girl  in  an  out-door  black  dress,  with  a  fur  cape  and  a  becoming 
hat  trimmed  ^ith  flowers.  The  face  is  daintily  pretty  and  piquant 
and  the  grace  and  spontaneity  of  the  attitude  are  charming.  She 
stands  against  a  dark  background,  and  Like  aU  the  figures  that  Mr. 
Whistler  paints,  she  actually  lives  in  her  frame.  The  painting  of 
the  head  is  as  refined  and  beautiful  a  piece  of  work  as  I  have  ever 
seen.  2.  A  full-length  portrait  of  Mr.  Walter  Sickert,  a  favourite 
pupil  of  ]VIr.  "^Miistler's  and  one  of  his  cleverest  disciples.  He  is 
in  evening  dress,  and  stands  against  a  dark  wall.  The  values  of 
the  black  tones  in  this  picture  are  wonderfully  mastered.  This 
is  a  picture  that  Velasquez  himself  would  have  dehghted  in — [it 
has  vanished] — and  stiU  more  so  is  another — 3.  A  full-length 
portrait  of  a  man  with  a  very  characteristic,  rather  Spanish- 
looking  head,  painted  in  a  manner  that  is  surely  of  the  very 
greatest.  [This  may  have  been  the  portrait  of  Chase  or  of 
Eldon,  also  disappeared.]  .  .  . 

"  A  superb  portrait  of  Mrs.  Godwin,  wiie  of  the  well-known 
architect,  will  rank  among  Mr.  Whistler's  chefs-d'oeuvre.  The 
lady  stands  in  an  ample  red  cloak  over  a  black  dress,  against  red 
draperies,  and  in  her  bonnet  is  a  red  plume.  Her  hands  rest  on 
her  hips,  and  her  attitude  is  singularly  vivacious.  The  colour  is 
simply  wonderful,  and  is  another  positive  proof  of  Mr.  Whistler's 
pre-eminence  as  a  colourist.  This  picture  has  been  painted  in 
artificial  hght,  as  has  also  another  one  of  a  lady  seated  in  a  graceful 
attitude,  %\ith  one  hand  leaning  over  the  back  of  a  chair,  while 
the  other  holds  a  fan.  She  wears  a  white  evening  dress,  and  is 
seen  against  a  hght  background.  Besides  these  pictures,  Mr. 
Whistler  showed  me  the  other  day  the  sketches  of  three  pictures  he 
is  going  to  paint,  consisting  of  various  groups  of  several  girls  on 
the  sea-shore.  .  .  .  [The  Projects,  evidently.]  In  addition  to 
these  sketches,  I  was  also  privileged  to  see  a  sketch  of  a  Venus, 
very  lovely  in  colour  and  design,  the  nude  figure  standing  close  to 
the  sea  ^^^th  deUcate  gauze  draperies  being  hghtly  lifted  by  the 
breeze.  The  studio  is  full  of  canvases  and  pictures  in  more  or  less 
advanced  stages,  and  on  one  of  the  walls  hang  a  number  of  pastel 
studies  of  the  nude  and  partially  draped  femal  ■  figure,  showing 
in  every  touch  the  master  hand.  ...  A  portrait  sketch  in  black 
chalk  of  Mr.  Wliistler  liimself  by  M.  Ra  on,  also  hangs  on  the 
wall." 
26  [1886 


THE    STUDIO    IN   THE    FULHAM   ROAD 

We  do  not  quote  A  Further  Proposition.  It  is  too  well 
known,  and,  besides,  it  can  be  read  to-day  in  The  Gentle  Art. 
It  was  Whistler's  explanation,  in  a  few  words,  of  the  truth 
disdained  by  most  modern  portrait-painters,  that  a  figure 
should  keep  well  within  the  frame,  and  that  flesh  should  be 
painted  according  to  the  light  in  which  it  is  seen.  This 
Proposition  was  written  at  first  in  answer  to  the  criticism 
often  made  of  his  portraits  that  the  "  flesh  was  low  in  tone  "  ; 
it  Was  preserved  because  it  was  an  admirable  statement  of 
an  artistic  truth.  At  the  time  of  writing  it,  evidently  he 
was  anxious  that  it  should  be  seen  and  read  widely.  A  year 
later,  in  1887,  it  was  printed  again  in  an  article  written  by 
Mr.  Walter  Dowdeswell  for  the  Art  Journal  (April),  the  first 
appreciative  article  on  '\Miistler  in  an  important  English 
magazine.  Whistler  was  beginning  to  understand  the  value 
of  the  things  he  had  written  and  to  provide  for  their  survival. 
He  also  gave  to  Mr.  Dowdeswell  for  publication  his  reply  to 
Hamerton's  criticism,  twenty  years  earlier,  of  the  Symphony 
in  White,  No.  III.,  a  reply  which  was  not  published  at  the 
time,  probably  for  the  good  reason  that  the  Saturday  Review, 
in  which  the  criticism  appeared,  did  not  then  open  its  columns 
to  correspondence. 

Mr.  Dowdeswell  gives  the  same  impression  of  the  bigness 
and  bareness  of  the  studio,  which,  he  says,  was 

"  painted  white  throughout,  with  just  a  soupcon  of  yellow  in  the 
rugs  and  matting  ;  plain  almost  to  bareness,  the  lofty  room  is  a 
veritable  workshop.  ...  A  table  covered  with  old  Nankin 
china — for  use  as  weU  as  for  sight — all  the  furniture.  There  is 
a  crowd  of  canvases  at  the  further  end,  and,  pimied  upon  the 
wall  on  the  right,  a  number  of  exquisite  little  notes  of  colour,  and 
drawings  of  semi-draped  figures  from  life,  in  pastels,  on  brown 
paper." 

As  a  contrast  to  descriptions  written  with  Whistler's 
knowledge  and,  no  doubt,  revision,  we  give  one  by  Mr.  Booth 
1887]  27 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

Pearsall,  who  saw  Whistler,  for  the  only  time,  in  the  Fulham 
Road  studio,  and  who  has  sent  us  his  impression  : 

"  I  applied  for  admission  and  was  bluffed  off  by  a  youth  who 
said  the  Master  was  engaged  and  would  not  see  any  one.  I  said 
to  teU  Mr.  Whistler  an  impatient  Irishman  waited  his  greeting 
and  had  a  letter  of  introduction  to  present.  The  youth  came  back 
after  some  minutes,  asking  me  to  give  him  the  letter  and  my 
card  for  Mr.  Whistler.  I  gave  them  and  told  the  boy  I  would 
gladly  wait  his  convenience  but  my  stay  in  London  was  short. 
The  youth  returned  at  once  and  said  the  Master  would  be  glad  to 
see  me.  I  followed  and  entered  a  large  room  with  a  high  hglit  in 
the  roof.  A  lady  was  sitting  for  her  portrait,  or  rather  standing 
in  a  corner  on  a  sheet.  The  evening  had  advanced  to  twiUght. 
The  lady  turned  out  to  be  Lady  Arcliibald  Campbell,  and  I  was 
introduced  to  her  by  Mr.  Wliistler  in  a  charming  way.  He  was  as 
courteous  and  agreeable  as  a  man  could  be,  made  me  be  seated  on 
a  huge  Sheraton  painted  sofa,  and  then  asked  me  about  his  Irish 
friends.  There  was  a  group  of  men  in  the  studio,  to  whom  I  was 
also  introduced — Mortimer  Menpes,  Theodore  Roussel,  Walter 
Sickert,  WiUiam  Stott  of  Oldham.  Presently  a  cab  was  called  for 
Lady  Archibald  Campbell  and  she  was  escorted  to  it  by  ^Vhistler. 
On  his  return,  he  asked  if  I  would  hke  to  see  what  he  was 
working  at.  He  brought  out  canvas  after  canvas,  and  asked  me 
to  say  what  I  thought.  I  saw  a  number  of  portraits,  some  six  or 
seven  full-lengths,  painted  on  coarse  canvas  hke  sail-cloth  or 
sacking,  and  the  very  beautiful  St.  Mark's,  Venice.  Whistler 
asked  me  if  Ruskin  would  admit  he  could  draw  architecture.  I 
laughed,  and  said  that  the  combination  of  tone  and  detail  in 
atmosphere  he  had  there,  would  be  a  joy  to  any  lover  of  painting. 
I  had  about  an  hour  and  a  half  \^'ith  the  '  Master,'  and  I  have  never 
forgotten  this  interview — his  sympathy  and  interest,  his  great 
courtesy  and  kindliness  to  me.  The  bare  studio  in  the  twUight, 
the  well-worn  painted  Sheraton  settee,  the  receipted  biUs  on  the 
wall,  the  Chippendale  table  used  as  palette,  the  group  of  colours 
on  the  shining  glassy  table  top — white,  yellow  ochre,  hght-red, 
vermUion,  and  black  in  large  masses,  which  were  kept  constantly 
mixed  in  a  deft  way  by  the  youth  who  brought  me  in,  the  charming 
studies  in  pastel  of  the  nude  drawn  on  brown  paper,  which  were 
pinned  on  the  walls,  the  tiny  graceful  httle  figiu'e, '  the  silver  flame  ' 
in  the  hair,  and  the  alertness  and  decorum  of  all  his  movements 
28  [1887 


LA  NOTE  ROUGE 


MAUD  READING  IN  A  UAiniOCK 
(IFater-Colour) 


THE    STUDIO    IN   THE    FULHAM   ROAD 

impressed  me  with  memories  I  can  never  forget.  His  warm  shako 
hands,  his  repeated  invitations  for  me  to  see  him  when  I  was  in 
London,  and  to  write  to  him,  made  me  very  much  pleased  with  my 
visit." 


Mr.  E.  J.  Horniman,  M.P.,  who  had  a  studio  near  by,  tells 
us  that  he  often  saw  on  the  roof  of  the  omnibus  stable  (just 
behind  the  studio)  pictures  put  out,  exposed  face  up  to  the 
weather  to  tone  and  harden. 

Many  who  visited  the  studio  were  no  more  surprised  at  its 
bareness  than  to  find  Whistler  working  in  his  ordinary  clothes, 
or  else  all  in  white.  He  sometimes  wore  his  white  jacket ; 
sometimes  took  off  his  coat  and  waistcoat,  displaying  spotless 
linen  sleeves.  He  was  as  fastidious  with  his  work  as  with 
his  dress.  He  could  not  endure  a  slovenly  palette,  or  brushes 
and  paints  in  disorder.  Unfortunately,  after  his  wife's 
death,  he  ruined  the  two  portraits  of  himself  in  the  white 
painting  jacket,  which  he  had  never  exhibited,  by  changing 
the  white  to  a  black  coat. 

Other  reminiscences  of  the  Fulham  Road  period  we  have 
from  Mr.  William  M.  Chase,  who  came  to  London  in  1886, 
with  a  suggestion  that  he  and  Whistler  should  paint  each 
other ;  also  that  Whistler  should  go  back  to  America  with 
him  and  open  a  school.  "  Well,  you  know,  that  anyway 
will  be  all  right.  Colonel,"  as  Whistler  used  to  call  Chase. 
"  Of  course,  everybody  will  receive  me ;  tug-boats  will 
come  down  the  Bay  ;  it  will  all  be  perfect  !  "  He  thought 
so  seriously  of  going,  that  for  an  interval  he  hesitated  to 
send  work  to  the  London  galleries,  fearing  he  might  want  it 
for  America. 

The  portraits  were  begun.  Whistler  painted  a  full-length 
of  Chase,  in  frock-coat  and  top  hat,  a  cane  held  jauntily 
across  his  legs.  As  he  wrote  afterwards,  in  a  letter  in- 
cluded in  The  Gentle  Art,  "  I,  who  was  charming,  made  him 
1887]  29 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

beautiful  on  canvas,  the  Masher  of  the  Avenues."     At  times 
^Vhistler  was  dehghted  with  what  he  had  done  : 

'  Look  at  this,  Colonel !  look  at  this  ;  did  you  ever  see  anything 
finer  ?  " 

"  It's  meek  or  modest,  they'll  have  to  put  on  your  tomb- 
stone !  " 

"  Say  '  and  '  not  '  or,'  meek  and  modest !  H'm  ! — well,  you 
know,  splendid,  Chase  !  " 

Mr,  Chase  remembers  an  evening  when  they  had  to  dine 
out,  and  Whistler  had  some  distance  to  go  home  to  dress 
with  a  longer  distance  to  the  dinner,  and  it  was  almost  the 
hour.  When  he  ventured  to  remind  him,  WTiistler  was 
indignant : 

"  'What,  Chase,  you  can  think  of  dinner  and  time  when  we  are 
just  doing  such  beautiful  things  ?  Stay  where  you  are,  and  they 
■will  be  glad  to  see  me  whenever  I  choose  to  come." 

The  portrait  has  never  been  seen  since,  but  has  vanished 
with  many  another.  Chase  painted  Whistler  in  frock-coat, 
without  a  hat  but  with  the  long  cane,  against  a  yellow  wall, 
and  his  portrait  remains.  He  had  intended  stopping  only 
a  short  time  that  summer  in  London,  as  he  passed  through 
to  Madrid.  But  he  found  Whistler  so  delightful  and  stimu- 
lating that  the  visit  to  Madrid  was  put  off.  He  has  told 
many  incidents  of  these  few  months  spent  with  Whistler, 
in  a  lecture  often  delivered  in  the  United  States.  A  lecturer, 
no  doubt,  must  adapt  himself  to  his  audience,  and  Mr.  Chase 
has  dwelt  principally  on  Whistler,  the  man  : — WTiistler,  the 
dandy,  in  white  ducks,  carrying  the  long  bamboo  cane ; 
Whistler,  the  fantastic,  designing,  for  the  tour  in  America, 
a  white  hansom  with  yellow  reins  and  a  white-and-yellow 
livery  for  the  negro  servant ;  \Miistler,  the  traveller,  driving 
his  companion  to  desperation.  Their  journey  was  to  Belgium 
and  Holland.  They  stopped  at  Antwerp,  and  went  together 
30  [1887 


A    l-OUritAIT   iMAfU) 


THE   STUDIO    IN   THE    FULHAM   ROAD 

to  an  International  Exhibition  there.  Whistler  said  to  us 
once  that  he  could  be  never  ill-natured,  only  wicked.  This 
was  one  of  the  occasions  when  he  was  "  wicked."  In  the 
gallery,  he  refused  to  look  at  any  pictures  except  those 
that  told  stories,  annoying  Chase  by  asking  if  the  cat  would 
really  catch  the  mouse  and  the  baby  swallow  the  mustard- 
pot.  The  first  serious  interest  he  showed  was  in  the  work 
of  Alfred  Stevens.  Before  it  he  stood  for  long,  at  last,  his 
long  expressive  forefinger  pointing  to  one  passage  in  the 
small  canvas :  "  H'm,  Colonel !  you  know  one  would  not 
mind  having  painted  that !  "  Chase  grew  nervous  as  they 
approached  the  wall  devoted  to  Bastien-Lepage,  whom  he 
admired,  and  he  decided  to  leave  Whistler.  But  Whistler 
would  not  hear  of  it.  "  I'll  only  say  one  word.  Chase,"  he 
promised.  Then  they  came  to  the  Bastiens  :  "  H'm,  h'm. 
Colonel,  the  one  word — School  !  "  Chase  goes  on  to  tell 
of  the  further  journey  to  Amsterdam.  Two  Germans  were 
in  the  railway  carriage  with  them.  "  Well,  you  know. 
Colonel,  if  the  Almighty  ever  made  a  mistake,  it  was  when 
he  created  the  German  !  "  Whistler  said  at  the  end  of  a  few 
minutes.  Chase  told  him  that  if  he  could  speak  German, 
he  might  understand  their  interesting  talk.  Whistler  an- 
swered in  fluent  German  and  talked  nothing  else,  until,  at 
Haarlem,  Chase  could  endure  it  no  longer  and  left  the  train. 
Whistler  leaned  out  of  the  window  as  the  train  started  : 
"  Think  it  over.  Chase,  and  to-morrow  morning  you  will 
come  on  to  Amsterdam,  and  you'll  tell  me  that  I'm  right 
— about  the  German  !  " 

All  this  is  amusing  and  characteristic  of  Whistler  in  certain 
moods,  but  from  Mr.  Chase  it  would  be  interesting  to  hear 
less  of  Whistler  at  play  and  more  of  him  at  work.  He  gives 
only  now  and  then  a  glimpse  of  Whistler  the  artist,  whom, 
even  then,  he  shows  in  lighter  mood.  He  tells  of  one  occa- 
sion when  an  American  friend  wanted  to  buy  some  etchings, 
1887]  31 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

and  they  were  to  lunch  with  him  in  the  City  to  arrange 
the  matter.  Taking  a  hansom,  late  already  for  the  appoint- 
ment, they  passed  a  greengrocer's,  where  WTiistler  stopped 
the  driver  :  "  Well,  Chase,  what  do  you  think  ?  If  I  get 
him  to  move  the  box  of  oranges  ?  ^Miat  ?  "  And  Chase 
says  he  set  to  work,  and  the  man  in  the  City  had  to  wait 
until  the  sketch  was  done.  On  another  occasion.  Chase 
expressed  surprise  at  Wliistler's  refusing  to  deliver  at  once 
a  picture  to  the  lady  who  had  bought  it  and  claimed  it. 
But  ^\^listler  explained  : 

"  You  know,  Chase,  the  people  don't  reaUy  want  anytliing 
beautiful.  They  fiU  a  room  by  chance  with  beautiful  things,  and 
some  little  trumpery  something  over  the  mantelpiece  gives  the 
whole  damned  show  away.  And  if  they  pay  a  hundred  pounds  or 
so  for  a  picture,  they  think  it  belongs  to  them.  Well — why — it 
should  only  be  theirs  for  a  while — hvmg  on  their  walls  that  they 
may  rejoice  in  it,  and  then  returned." 

It  must  be  admitted  that  it  is  not  easy,  from  any  stand- 
point, to  write  of  WTiistler  during  the  years  that  followed 
his  return  from  Venice.  The  decade  between  18S0  and  1890 
is  the  fullest  of  Whistler's  always  full  life.  It  was  during 
these  ten  years  that  he  opened  his  "  one  man  "  shows  amidst 
jeers,  and  closed  them  with  success.  It  was  during  these 
ten  years  that  he  conquered  society,  though  society  never 
realised  it.  It  was  during  these  ten  years  that,  to  make 
himself  known,  he  became  in  the  streets  of  London  the 
observed  of  all  observers,  developing  extraordinary  costumes, 
attracting  to  himself  the  attention  he  wanted  to  attract. 
It  was  during  these  ten  years  that  he  began  to  %\Tap  himself 
in  mystery,  as  Degas  said  of  him — and  then  go  off  and  get 
photographed,  when,  as  Degas  also  said,  he  acted  as  if  he 
had  no  genius  ;  all  of  which  was  merely  part  of  the  armour 
he  put  on  to  protect  himself  from,  and  draw  to  himself, 
a  foolish  public.  It  was  during  these  ten  years  that  he 
32  [18S7 


THE  STUDrO  IN  THE  FULHAM  ROAD 

invented  the  Followers — and  got  rid  of  them ;  that  he  flitted 
from  house  to  house,  from  studio  to  studio,  and  through 
England,  France,  Belgium  and  Holland,  until  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  keep  pace  with  him ;  that  he  captured 
the  press,  though  it  is  still  imconscious  of  its  capture ; 
that  he  concentrated  the  interest  of  England,  of  the  whole 
world,  upon  him,  with  one  object  in  view — that  is,  to  make 
England,  to  make  the  whole  world,  look  at  his  work. 

In  these  crowded  years,  two  events  stand  out  with  special 
prominence — his  Ten  o' Clock  and  his  invasion  of  the  British 
Artists.  One  states  definitely  his  views  on  the  subject  of 
art ;  the  other  shows  as  definitely  the  position  to  which, 
through  his  art,  he  had  attained  in  the  eyes  of  artists.  Each, 
therefore,  must  be  written  of  separately. 


1887]  •i:c  33 


CHAPTER  XXVIII.  THE  "TEN  O'CLOCK." 
THE  YEARS  EIGHTEEN  EIGHTY -FOUR 
TO  EIGHTEEN  EIGHTY-EIGHT 

THE  Ten  o' Clock  was  ^Miistler's  second  serious  experi- 
ment as  a  writer.  He  put  into  it  all  he  knew 
of  his  art,  and  of  the  laws  governing  it,  which  he 
believed  to  be  unalterable  and  everlasting.  ]Mr.  W.  C. 
Alexander  has  told  us  that,  when  he  listened  to  the  Ten 
o'clock  at  Prince's  Hall,  there  was  nothing  in  it  fresh  to 
him  ;  he  had  heard  it  all  for  years  from  ^^^listler.  The  only 
new  thing  was  Whistler's  decision  to  say  in  public  what 
he  had  long  said  in  private.  He  was  busy  with  this  work 
throughout  the  autumn  and  early  Annter  of  1884—85. 
Friends  who  saw  him  then  share  memories  of  the  same 
unceasing  care  he  gave  to  his  writing  as  to  his  painting. 
He  would  appear  at  all  sorts  of  strange  hours,  up  to  mid- 
night, with  a  page  or  two  to  submit  to  Mr.  Alan  S.  Cole, 
in  whose  diarj-,  from  early  October  until  Februarj-,  note 
follows  note  of  visits  from  ^\'histler  or  evenings  spent 
helping  him  : 

October  24th  (1884)  :  "  Whistler  to  dine.  We  passed  the  even- 
ing writing  out  his  views  on  Raskin,  Art,  &e. 

October  21th  :  "  Jimmy  to  dinner,  continuing  notes  as  to  himself, 
and  Art. 

October  28th  :   "  Writing  out  Whistler's  notes  for  him. 

October  29th :  "  Jimmy  to  dine.  Writing  note?  as  to  his 
opinions  on  Art  matters,  and  discussing  whether  to  offer  them  for 
publication  to  English  Illustrated  Magazine  edited  by  Comyns 
Carr,  or  to  whom  ?  " 

34  ['88* 


THE    "TEN    O'CLOCK" 

Mr.  G.  A.  Holmes,  in  his  Chelsea  house,  was  constantly 
roused  by  the  well-known  sharp  ring  and  quick  double 
knock,  followed  by  Whistler  with  a  new  page  or  paragraph 
for  his  approval.  Mr.  Menpes  writes  that  "  scores  of  times 
— I  might  almost  say  hundreds  of  times — he  paced  up  and 
down  the  Embankment  at  night,  repeating  to  me  sentences 
from  the  marvellous  lecture."  During  a  few  days'  illness 
which  kept  Whistler  at  his  brother's  house  in  Wimpole  Street, 
where,  when  ill,  he  always  went  to  be  taken  care  of,  Mrs. 
Whistler  recalls  him  sitting,  propped  up  by  pillows,  while 
he  wrote  and  read  new  passages  to  the  doctor  and  herself. 

His  original  plan  for  an  article  in  the  English  Illustrated, 
then  in  the  first  days  of  brilliant  promise,  never  came  to 
anything.  In  November  1884,  Lord  Powerscourt,  Mr. 
Ludovici  says  in  the  Art  Journal  (July  1906),  invited  Whistler 
to  Ireland  to  distribute  prizes  at  an  art  school  and  to  speak 
to  the  students,  and  nothing  seemed  more  appropriate  for  the 
purpose  than  the  notes  he  had  written.  On  November  19 
(1884),  Mr.  Cole  recorded  : 

"  Whistler  called  and  told  us  how  he  was  invited  to  Ireland, 
where  he  was  sending  some  of  his  works,  and  would  lecture  in 
Dublin." 

The  invitation  came  from  the  Dublin  Sketching  Club. 
Mr.  Booth  Pearsall  writes  us  of  his  kindness  in  accepting 
the  invitation,  and  of  the  interest  of  the  exhibition  which 
was  held  at  Leinster  Hall,  three  other  Americans — Sargent, 
Julian  Story  and  Ralph  Curtis — being  represented  with  him. 
No  such  large  and  fine  collection  of  Whistlers  had  hitherto 
been  seen  anywhere  out  of  London,  a  fact  which  alone  made 
this  show  memorable.     We  quote  Mr.  Pearsall : 

"  His  letters  show  how  exceedingly  generous  he  was  to  a  club 

of  ftrangers  by  lending  them  twenty-five  of  his  works.     This 

collection  included  the  Portrait  of  My  Mothe  .  Lady  Meux,  and 

1884.]  35 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

Garlyle,  and  a  number  of  Nocturnes,  and  other  bits  in  oil,  water- 
colour  and  pastel.  The  pictures  had  to  be  hung  together  in  a  group. 
As  I  was  so  interested  in  them,  with  jVIr.  Whistler's  permission,  I 
had  them  photographed.  He  never  asked  for  rights  or  commis- 
sion, but,  in  the  most  gracious,  generous  way,  gave  us  the  per- 
mission to  use  the  negatives  as  we  liked.  The  exhibition  was 
hardly  open,  before  the  critical  music  began,  and,  in  the  papers 
and  in  conversation,  a  regular  tempest  arose,  that  was  highly 
diverting  to  Mr.  Whistler.  He  begged  me  to  send  him  everything 
said  about  the  exhibition,  good,  bad  and  indifferent,  and  liis  letters 
show  he  quite  enjoyed  all  the  heat  and  ferment.  The  whole  of 
Dublin  was  convulsed,  and  many  went  to  Molesworth  Street  to 
see  the  exhibition  who  rarely  went  to  see  anything  of  the  kind. 
Then  a  terrible  convulsion  took  place  in  the  club  :  a  group  of 
members  we  had  admitted,  who  photographed,  got  together,  and 
drew  up  resolutions,  that  never  again  should  such  pictures  be  ex- 
hibited. None  of  these  men  could  even  paint.  The  talent  of  the 
club  rephed  by  having  Mr.  Whistler  elected  as  Hon.  Member,  and 
it  was  carried,  despite  intense  resistance.  I  took  an  active  part 
in  all  this.  It  was  vrith.  a  view  to  helping  Mr.  Whistler  that  I  did 
my  best  to  have  his  famous  Ten  o'Clock  given  in  Dubhn.  He 
was  at  first  disposed  to  come  over,  but  other  matters  prevented 
him,  and  the  matter  dropped.  During  the  time  of  the  exhibition, 
I  tried  my  utmost  to  sell  the  pictures,  and  an  offer  was  made  by  a 
friend  to  purchase  The  Mother  and  the  Carlyle,  which  seemed  to 
promise  well,  but  ultimately  stopped.  I  did  induce  the  friend  to 
purchase  Piccadilly,  which  had  been  No.  9,  Nocturne  in  Grey  and 
Gold — Piccadilly  (water  colour),  in  his  exhibition  in  Bond  Street 
that  May  (DowdesweU's).  He  was  very  much  plefised,  indeed, 
!ind  sent  the  owner,  the  Right  Hon.  Jonathan  Hogg,  P.C.,  a 
receipt,  greatly  to  Mr.  Hogg's  amusement,  for  an  impression  was 
rife  amongst  the  jjubhc,  that  he  never  did  attend  to  business 
matters.  I  know  from  personal  friends,  wlio  knew  Mr.  Whistler 
then,  how  much  pleased  he  was,  not  only  with  the  purchase  of  his 
pictures,  but  with  the  commotion  that  exhibition  caused." 

Whistler  did  not  give  up  the  idea  of  a  lecture.  Archibald 
Forbes  heard  him  read  his  essay,  was  impressed,  and  intro- 
duced him  to  Mrs.  D'Oyly  Carte.  She  had  managed  a 
lecture  tour  for  Forbes,  and  now  she  agreed  to  arrange  one 
36  [1881. 


J  v\M  KS     McN  K I LL     Will  STI.KU 
{From  a  bust  bij  Sir  J.  E.  Jiothm) 


THE    "TEN    O'CLOCK" 

evening  for  Whistler.  She  has  told  us  of  his  fastidious 
attention  to  the  details.  "  The  idea  was  absolutely  his," 
she  writes  us,  "  and  all  I  did  was  to  see  to  the  business 
arrangements.  Knowing  him,  you  can  imagine  how  enthu- 
siastic he  was  over  it  all,  and  how  he  made  one  enthusiastic 
too."  She  was  just  about  to  produce  The  Mikado,  and, 
sure  that  he  would  find  her  in  her  office  at  the  Savoy  Theatre, 
he  would  appear  there  every  evening  to  talk  things  over, 
or  would  send  IMr.  Walter  Sickert  with  a  message.  Whistler 
delighted  in  her  office,  a  tiny  room  lit  by  one  lamp  on  her 
desk,  with  strange  effects  of  light  and  shadow,  but  the  only 
record  that  remains  in  his  work  of  his  many  visits  is  in  the 
two  etchings,  Savoy  Scafjolding  and  Miss  Lenoir,  Mrs.  D'Oyly 
Carte's  name  before  her  marriage.  Prince's  Hall  was  taken 
for  the  lecture.  Whistler  suggested  the  hour.  People 
were  not  to  rush  to  him  from  the  dinner-table  as  to  the 
theatre,  therefore  ten  was  as  early  as  one  could  expect  them 
to  be  punctual,  and  the  hour  gave  the  name  :  the  Ten  o' Clock. 
He  designed  the  ticket,  he  had  it  enlarged  into  a  poster,  he 
chose  the  offices  and  galleries  where  tickets  should  be  sold. 
There  was  a  rehearsal  at  Prince's  Hall  on  February  19  (1885), 
Mrs.  D'Oyly  Carte  sitting  in  front  to  tell  him  if  his  voice 
carried.  Whistler  had  his  lecture  by  heart,  his  delivery 
was  excellent,  he  needed  no  coaching,  only  an  occasional 
warning  to  raise  his  voice.  It  was  because  he  feared  his 
voice  would  not  carry  that  he  gave  his  nightly  rehearsals 
on  the  Embankment,  so  Mr.  Menpes  says. 

On  the  night  itself,  February  20, 1885,  the  hall  was  crowded. 
Mrs.  D'Oyly  Carte  wondered  why  so  many  people  came, 
certain  that  nothing  less  was  expected  than  the  seriousness  of 
the  lecturer  and  his  lecture.  The  reporters  admitted  after- 
wards that  they  asked  each  other  whether  "  the  eccentric  artist 
was  going  to  sketch,  to  pose,  to  sing,  or  to  rhapsodise  ?  " 
A  writer  in  the  Daily  Telegraph  confessed  that  he  thought 
1885]  37 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

"  anything  might  be  expected — a  burlesque,  a  breakdown, 
or  a  comic  dance,"  and  was  therefore  frankly  surprised  when 
the  '■  amiable  eccentric,  tacitly  allowed  to  anticipate  even 
the  first  of  April,"  chose  to  appear  simply  as  "  a  jaunty, 
unabashed,  composed,  and  self-satisfied  gentleman,  armed 
with  an  opera  hat  and  an  eyeglass."  Others  were  so  amazed 
to  see  him  "  attired  in  faultless  evening  dress  "  that  they 
had  to  note  the  fact  in  their  report.  Followers  compared 
the  small  figure  in  black  against  the  shadowy  background 
to  one  of  his  own  arrangements.  Friends  have  said  that  he 
looked  like  his  own  portrait  of  Sarasate  on  the  concert  plat- 
form, and  they  recall  the  hat  carefully  placed  on  the  table 
and  the  long  cane  against  the  wall  behind  him.  Oscar 
Wilde's  description  was,  "  a  miniature  Mephistopheles 
mocking  the  majority."  The  unprejudiced  saw  the  dignity 
of  his  presence  and  the  simplicity  of  his  manner ;  all  were 
compelled  to  feel  the  beauty  and  earnestness  of  his  words. 
Mrs.  Anna  Lea  Merritt  writes  us  : 

"It  is  always  a  delight  to  remember  that  actually  once  Mr. 
Whistler  was  really  shy  !  Those  who  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing 
his  first  Ten  dClock  must  remember  that  when  he  came  before 
his  rather  puzzled  and  distinguished  audience,  there  were  a  few 
minutes  of  very  palpable  stage  fright." 

He  had  notes,  but  he  seldom  referred  to  them.  He  held 
the  audience  from  the  first,  and  Mrs.  D'Oyly  Carte  remembers 
the  hush  in  the  hall  when  he  came  to  his  description  of 
London  transfigured,  a  fairyland  in  the  night.  "  I  went 
to  laugh  and  I  stayed  to  praise,"  is  Mr.  Lewis  F.  Day's 
account  to  us,  and  others  were  generous  enough  to  make 
the  same  admission. 

Whistler  forced  his  audience  to  listen  to  him  because 
he  spoke  with  conviction.  The  Ten  o'Clock  was  the  state- 
ment of  simple  truths  which  his  contemporaries  were  doing 
their  best  to  forget.  When  we  read  it  to-day,  our  surprise 
38  [1885 


THE    "TEN    O'CLOCK" 

is  that  things  so  obvious  needed  saying  even  while  we  are 
thankful  that  the  need  existed,  since  to  this  need  we  owe 
one  of  the  most  interesting  professions  of  artistic  faith 
ever  made  by  an  artist.  The  lecture  was  given  in  the 
'eighties  when  "  art  "  had  been  driven  to  such  a  height  of 
popularity  that  it  ran  the  risk  of  disappearing  in  the  fads 
and  follies  and  excesses  of  those  who  had  helped  to 
popularise  it.  The  reaction  against  the  paltry  anecdote 
and  sentiment  of  early  Victorian  art  had  been  extreme. 
Ruskin,  through  his  books,  the  Pre-Raphaelites  Holman 
Hunt  and  Millais,  through  their  pictures,  had  spread  the 
doctrine  that  art  was  a  question  of  ethics  and  industry. 
Rossetti  and  writers  like  Pater  would  have  had  the  world 
believe  that  it  belonged  to  the  past  and  that  men  must 
grope  their  way  back  through  the  centuries  to  resurrect  it. 
William  Morris  and  his  school  taught  that  it  sprang  from 
the  people  and  to  the  people  must  be  returned  before  there 
could  be  hope  for  it.  Men  and  women  clad  themselves 
in  strange,  sad-coloured  garments  and  called  themselves 
"  iesthetes  "  ;  many,  besides  Oscar  Wilde,  "  peddled  "  art 
in  the  provinces  ;  artists  preached  its  political  importance ; 
parsons  discovered  in  it  a  new  means  to  salvation.  Art  was, 
indeed,  upon  the  town,  as  Whistler  said,  but  ethics  and 
aestheticism,  fashion  and  socialism,  had  captured  it.  His 
lecture  was  a  protest  against  all  these  absurdities  committed 
in  the  name  of  art,  against  the  prevailing  belief  that  art 
belonged  to  the  past,  that  it  should  be  the  affair  of  the  multi- 
tude, that  its  business  was  to  teach  or  to  elevate.  "  Art  and 
Joy  go  together,"  he  said,  and  the  world's  masters  were 
never  reformers,  never  missionaries,  but,  content  with  their 
surroundings,  found  beauty  everywhere.  There  was  no 
great  past,  no  mean  present,  for  art,  no  drawing  of  lines 
between  the  marbles  of  the  Greek  and  the  fans  and  broideries 
of  Japan.  There  was  no  artistic  period,  no  art-loving  people. 
X885]  39 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

Art  happened,  and,  in  a  few  eloquent  -words,  he  gave  the 
history  of  its  happening  and  the  coming  of  the  cheap  and 
tawdry,  when  the  taste  of  the  tradesman  supplanted  the 
science  of  the  artist,  and  the  multitude  rejoiced.     Art,  he 
held,  is  a  science — the  science  by  which  the  artist  picks  and 
chooses  and  groups  the  elements  contained  in  Nature,  that 
beauty   may  be  the  result.     For   "  Nature  is  very  rarely 
right,  to  such  an  extent  even,  that  it  might  almost  be  said  that 
Nature  is  usually  wrong."     He  has  been  so  frequently  mis- 
understood that  it  may  be  well  to  emphasise  the  meaning  of 
these  two  assertions  upon  which  his  belief  was  based.     Art 
happens,  because  the  artist,  like  the  scientist,  may  appear 
anywhere  or  at  any  time  ;    art  is  a  science  not  because,  as 
some  painters  imagine,  it  is  concerned  with  laws  of  light  or 
chemistry  of  colours  or  scientific  problems  in  the  usual  sense, 
but  because  it  is  as  exact  in  its  methods  and  in  its  results  as 
the  science  of  chemistiy  or  any  other.     The  artist  can  leave 
no  more  to  chance  than  the  chemist  or  the  botanist  or  the 
biologist.     Knowledge  may  and  does  increase  and  develop, 
but  the  laws  of  art  are  as  invariable  as  those  of  chemistry, 
botany,  or  biology.     Because  art  is  a  science,  the  critic  who 
is  not  an  artist  speaks  without  authority  and  would  prize  a 
picture  as  a  "  hieroglyph  or  sj'mbol  of  story,"  or  for  anything 
save  the  painter's  poetry,  which  is  the  sole  reason  for .  its 
existence  :   "  the  amazing  invention  that  shall  have  put  form 
and  colour  into  such  perfect  harmony,  that  exquisiteness  is 
the  result."     The  conditions  of  art  are  degraded  by  these 
"  middlemen,"  and  no  less  by  the  foolish  who  would  go  back 
because  the  thumb  of  the  mountebank  jerked  the  other  way. 
He  laughed  at  the  pretence  of  the  State  as  fosterer  of  art — 
art  that  roams  as  she  will,  from  the  builders  of  the  Parthenon 
to  the  opium-eaters  of  Nankin,  from  the  Master  at  Madrid  to 
Hokusai  at  the  foot  of  Fusiyama.     It  is  said  by  some  that 
Wliistler's  philosophy  was  thin  :    his  statement  that  such  a 
40  [1885 


CREMORNE  GARDENS,  NO.   11. 


THE    "TEN    O'CLOCK" 

thing  as  an  artistic  period  has  never  been  known  is  dismissed 
by  others  as  a  boyish  utterance.  But  it  is  the  very  simplicity 
of  the  truth  tauglit  by  Whistler  that  is  mistaken  for  thinness 
to-day,  when  the  necessity  of  the  teaching  is  not  so  evident. 
It  is  forgotten  that  his  denial  of  an  artistic  period  or  an 
art-loving  people  was  in  his  defence  of  art  against  those 
who  would  have  bound  it  by  dates  and  confined  it  within 
geographical  limits.  He  meant,  not  that  a  certain  period 
might  not  produce  more  artists  and  more  people  to  appreciate 
them  than  another,  but  that  art  is  independent  of  time 
and  place  : 

"  seeking  and  finding  the  beautiful  in  all  conditions  and  in  all 
times,  as  did  her  liigh  priest,  Rembrandt,  when  he  saw  picturesque 
grandeur  and  noble  dignity  in  the  Jews'  quarter  of  Amsterdam, 
and  lamented  not  that  its  inliabitants  were  not  Greeks. 

"  As  did  Tintoret  and  Paul  Veronese,  among  the  Venetians, 
■i\liile  not  halting  to  change  the  brocaded  silks  for  the  classic 
draperies  of  Athens. 

"  As  did,  at  the  Court  of  Phihp,  Velasquez,  whose  Infantas, 
clad  in  inoesthetic  hoops,  are,  as  works  of  Art,  of  the  same 
quality  as  the  Elgin  marbles." 

He  might  have  added,  as  did  ^Vhistler,  whose  Thames, 
flowing  through  London,  is  lovelier  far  than  the  rivers  of 
any  imaginary  Garden  of  Eden,  and  whose  men  and  women 
are  as  stately  as  the  Venetian's  or  the  Spaniard's,  though 
clothed  in  the  fashions  the  day  decreed. 

His  argument  was  clear  and  logical,  and  his  facts,  revolu- 
tionary then,  are  becoming  the  truisms  of  a  later  generation. 
Critics,  photographers,  even  Royal  Academicians  have 
appropriated  and  made  use  of  many  of  the  ideas  of  the 
Ten  o'clock,  for  strange  things  are  happening  to  the  memory 
of  the  Idle  Apprentice. 

Whistler,  as  a  lecturer,  made  his  points  wittily  ;  he  chose 
his  words  and  rounded  his  sentences  with  the  same  feeling 
for  the  beautiful  that  ruled  his  painting.  The  Ten  o'Clock 
1885]  41 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

has  passed  into  literature.  Those  Sunday  wresthngs  with 
Scripture  in  Lowell,  that  getting  of  the  Psalms  by  heart  at 
Stonington,  had  helped  him  to  develop  a  style  the  literary 
man  by  profession  may  well  envy.  This  style  in  Art  and 
Art  Critics  had  its  roughnesses.  He  pruned  and  chastened 
it  in  his  letters  to  the  papers,  devoting  infinite  thought  and 
trouble  to  the  slightest,  for  he,  more  than  most  men,  believed 
that  whatever  he  had  to  do  was  worth  doing  with  all  his 
might.  Even  in  his  private  correspondence  he  was  as 
scrupulous,  and  we  have  known  him  go  so  far  as  to  make  a 
rough  draft  of  a  letter  to  his  bootmaker  in  Paris,  and  ask 
us  to  dictate  it  to  him  while  he  wrote  his  fair  copy,  as  a 

final  touch  addressing  it  to  M. ,  Maitre  Bottler.     In  the 

Ten  o'clock,  as  a  result  of  so  much  practice,  he  brought  his 
style  to  perfection.  Many  things  he  said  concerned  passing 
fads  and  fancies,  but  his  philosophy  was  based  on  the  eternal 
truths  of  art  and  expressed  with  the  beauty  that  endures 
for  all  time. 

The  critics  treated  the  lecture  as  they  treated  his  exhibi- 
tions. The  Daily  Netvs  was  almost  alone  in  owning  honestly 
that  the  quality  of  the  lecture  was  a  surprise.  The  Times 
had  the  majority  with  it,  when  it  said  that  the  audience, 
hoping  for  an  hour's  amusement  from  "  the  eccentric  genius 
of  the  artist,"  were  not  disappointed.  "  The  eccentric  freak 
of  an  amiable,  humorous,  and  accomplished  gentleman," 
Avas  the  Daily  Telegraph's  opinion.  Oscar  Wilde,  in  the 
Pall  Mall  Gazette,  was  shocked  that  a  mere  artist  should 
speak  on  art,  and  was  unwilling  to  accept  the  dictum  that 
only  a  painter  is  a  judge  of  painting.  This  was  natural,  for 
it  was  as  an  authority  on  art  that  Wilde  had  made  himself 
known  in  the  beginning.  Nor  could  he  assent  to  much  that 
Whistler  said,  for,  as  a  lecturer,  he  had  been  something  of  a 
perambulating  advertisement  for  the  "  aesthetic  movement," 
against  which  the  Tcti  o'Clock  was  a  protest.  But  he  was 
42  [188.5 


THE    "TEN    O'CLOCK" 

more  generous  than  other  critics  in  acknowledging  the  beauty 
of  the  lecture  and  the  earnestness  of  the  lecturer,  though  he 
could  not  finish  his  notice  in  the  Pall  Mall  without  one  parting 
shot  at  the  man  whose  target  he  had  so  often  been  :  "  that 
he  is  indeed  one  of  the  very  greatest  masters  of  painting 
is  my  opinion.  And  I  may  add  that,  in  this  opinion,  Mr. 
Whistler  himself  entirely  concurs."  This  was  not  the  sort 
of  thing  Whistler  could  pass  in  silence.  His  answer  led  to 
a  correspondence  which  made  still  another  chapter  in  The 
Gentle  Art,  where  it  may  be  read  in  full. 

^Vhistler  repeated  the  Ten  o' Clock  several  times — first 
early  in  March,  before  the  British  Artists,  and  later  in  the 
same  month  (the  24th)  before  the  University  Art  Society 
at  Cambridge,  where  he  spent  the  night  with  Mr.  Sidney 
Colvin,  who  writes  us  : 

"  beyond  the  mere  fact  that  \Vliistler  dined  with  me  in  hall  and 
'  had  some  chat  there  with  Prince  Edward — an  amiable  youth,  who 
was  a  little  scared  at  the  idea  of  having  to  talk  art  (of  which  he 
was  blankly  ignorant),  but  whom  Whistler  soon  put  at  his  ease — 
I  have  no  precise  recollection  of  what  passed." 

On  April  30,  he  gave  his  lecture  at  Oxford.  Mr.  Sidney 
Starr  says  : 

"  I  went  down  with  WTiistler  and  his  brother,  '  Doctor  Willie,' 
to  put  up  at  the  historic  '  Mitre.'  The  lecture  hall  was  small,  with 
primitive  benches,  and  the  audience  was  small  in  comparison  with 
that  of  London.  The  lecture  was  delivered  impressively,  but 
lacking  the  original  emphasis  and  sparkle.  Wliistler  hated  to  do 
anything  twice  over,  and  this  was  the  fourth  time." 

The  fifth  time  was  about  the  same  date  at  the  Royal 
Academy  Students'  Club  in  Golden  Square,  a  curiously 
unexplained  accident,  and  a  sixth  at  the  Fine  Art  Society's, 
Dr.  Moncure  Conway  wrote  us,  a  year  before  his  death,  that 
he  heard  the  Ten  o'clock  at  Lady  Jeune's.  There  was  a 
suggestion,  which  came  to  nothing,  of  taking  it  on  an  American 
1885]  43 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

tour  and  to  Paris.  It  was  heard  twice  more  in  London, 
once  at  the  Grosvenor  Gallerj'  in  February  1888.  Val 
Prinsep  remembers  Whistler's  pressing  invitation  for  him 
and  Leighton  to  attend  : 

"  During  the  time  he  was  President  of  the  British  Artists,  he 
and  the  other  heads  of  art  sometimes  were  asked  to  dine  by  our 
President  (Sir  F.  Leighton).  ('  Ratlier  late  to  ask  me,  don't  you 
think  ?  '  WTiistler  is  said  to  have  remarked.)  After  dinner,  he 
pressed  Leighton  and  me  to  come  to  his  lecture.  Ten  o^Clock, 
which  was  to  be  delivered  a  few  days  after. — '  Wiat's  the  use  of 
me  coming  ?  '  Leighton  said  sadly.  '  You  know  I  should  not 
argee  with  what  you  said,  mj'  dear  Whistler  ?  ' — '  Oh,'  cried 
WTiistler,  '  come  all  the  same  ;  nobody  takes  me  seriousl}%  don't 
you  know  !  '  " 

It  was  heard,  for  the  last  time,  three  years  later  (1891), 
at  the  Chelsea  Arts  Club  which,  just  started,  proposed  to  hold 
meetings  for  lectures  and  discussions,  and  Whistler  was  asked 
to  inaugurate  them  with  his  Ten  o'Clock.  When,  before  the 
club  found  a  home,  it  was  suggested  that  the  fii'st  of  these 
meetings  should  be  at  the  Cadogan  Pier  Hotel,  Whistler's 
answer  was  characteristic  :  "  No,  gentlemen,  let  us  go  to  no 
beer  hotel,'''  and  the  Ten  o'Clock  was  put  off  until  the  club 
house  in  the  King's  Road  was  ready. 

The  Ten  o' Clock  was  published  by  Messrs.  Chatto  and 
Windus  in  the  spring  of  1888,  three  years  after  its  fii'st 
delivery.  It  received  much  the  same  criticism  when  it 
appeared  as  a  pamphlet  as  when  it  was  delivered  as  a 
lecture.  But  the  only  criticism  Whistler  took  seriously 
was  an  article  by  Mr.  SAvinburne  in  the  Fortnightly  Review 
for  June  1888. 

Swinburne  objected  to  Whistler's  praise  of^^Japanese  art, 
to  the  rigid  line  he  drew  between  art  and  literature,  to  his 
incursion  as  "  brilliant  amateur  "  into  the  region  of  letters, 
to  his  denial  of  the  possibiUty  of  an  artistic  period  or  an 
44  "  [isss 


THE    "TEN    O'CLOCK" 

art-loving  people,  and  to  niuch  else  besides.  All  this  might 
have  passed,  and  the  friendship  between  Whistler  and 
Swinburne  have  been  undisturbed.  But  Swinburne  went 
further.  He  questioned  the  seriousness  of  Whistler.  He 
thought  it  would  be  certainlj^  indecorous,  and  possibly 
superfluous,  to  inquire  of  Whistler,  "  How  far  the  witty 
tongue  may  be  thrust  into  the  smiling  cheek  ?  "  Swinburne 
hinted,  if  he  did  not  say  positively,  that  Whistler  was  "  a 
jester  of  genius  "  in  the  Ten  o'Clock — a  "  tumbler  or  a 
clown."  Whistler  was  jealous  of  the  dignity  of  art  and  of 
himself  as  artist,  and  was  disappointed  to  find  that  Swin- 
burne "  also  misunderstood."  The  most  dignified,  almost 
pathetic,  pages  in  The  Gentle  Art  are  those  where  he  answers 
the  article — Et  tu,  Brute — asking  Swinburne  : 

"  Who  are  you,  deserting  your  Muse,  that  you  should  insult  my 
Goddess  with  familiarity,  and  the  manners  of  approach  common 
to  the  reasoners  in  the  market-place  ?  " 

This  was  followed  by  a  letter,  printed  in  the  World  under 
the  heading  Freeing  a  Last  Friend,  in  which  Whistler  stated 
that  he  had  "  lost  a  confrere ;  but,  then,  I  have  gained  an 
acquaintance — one  Algernon  Swinburne." 

The  letter  was  sent  to  Mr.  Swinburne  before  it  appeared 
in  the  World.  We  have  been  told  that  it  was  received  at 
Putney  one  Sunday  morning  when  Mr.  Watts-Dunton  was 
to  breakfast  with  Whistler.  Suspecting  that  the  letter 
might  not  be  friendly,  Mr.  Watts-Dunton  took  it,  unopened, 
with  him  to  Chelsea  and  begged  Whistler  to  withdraw  it. 
Whistler  refused.  Mr.  Watts-Dunton  left  the  house  without 
breakfasting,  and  the  same  day  the  letter  was  delivered  to 
Swinburne,  who  after  reading  it,  pale  with  rage,  swore 
that  never  again  would  he  speak  to  Whistler.  He  never  did. 
Mr.  Watts-Dunton,  we  believe,  was,  as  a  result,  at  pains 
to  avoid  Whistler,  fearful  of  an  open  rupture  with  him.  Mr. 
1888]  45 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

Meredith  had  discovered  years  before  that  the  springs  in 
WTiistler  were  prompt  for  the  challenge,  and  it  cannot  be 
denied  that  he  had  some  reason  for  seeing  a  challenge  in 
Swinburne's  article.  He  was  stung  to  the  quick,  but  even 
in  his  anger  he  could  not  forget  the  friendship  of  the 
past.  In  all  its  bitterness  he  was  yet  full  of  affection  and 
admiration  for  the  poet  who  had  "  descended  into  the 
market -place."  There  is  one  sentence  in  his  answer  that 
alone  would  explain  and  justify  his  attitude  : 

"  Do  we  not  speak  the  same  language  ?  Are  we  strangers, 
then,  or,  in  our  Father's  house  are  there  so  many  mansions  that 
you  lose  your  way,  my  brother,  and  cannot  recognise  your  kin  ?  " 


46  [J888 


CIIKLSEA  WJIAUF 

{di'ty  find  Silrer) 


CHAPTER  XXIX.  THE  BRITISH  ARTISTS 
—THE  RISE.  THE  YEARS  EIGHTEEN 
EIGHTY-FOUR  TO  EIGHTEEN  EIGHTY- 
SIX 

IN  the  autumn  of  1884,  Whistler  joined  the  Society  of 
British  Artists.  Years  later,  once,  when  a  British 
Artist  was  dining  with  us.  Whistler  came  in.  "  A  de- 
lightful evening,"  he  said,  towards  midnight,  the  British 
Artist  having  gone,  "  but  what  was  it  for  the  British 
Artist  sitting  there,  face  to  face  with  his  late  President  ?  " 
And  then,  he  told  us  how  he  first  became  connected  with  the 
Society  : 

"  Well,  you  know,  one  day  at  my  studio  in  Chelsea,  a  deputation 
arrived — Ayerst  Ingram  and  one  or  two  others. — And  there  they 
were — and  I  received  them  charmingly,  of  course — and  they  repre- 
sented to  me  that  the  British  Artists'  was  an  old  and  distinguished 
Society,  possibly  as  old  as  the  Academy,  and  maybe  older,  and  they 
had  come  to  ask  me  if  I  would  do  them  the  honour  of  becoming  a 
member.  It  was  only  right  I  should  know  that  the  Society's 
fortunes  were  at  a  low  ebb,  but  they  wished  to  put  new  life  into 
it.  I  felt  the  ceremony  of  the  occasion.  AVhatever  the  Society 
was  at  the  moment,  it  had  a  past,  and  they  were  there  with  all 
oflBcial  authority  to  pay  me  a  compUment.  I  accepted  the  offer 
with  appropriate  courtesy.  As  always,  I  understood  the  cere- 
monial of  the  occasion — and  then,  almost  as  soon  as  I  was  made  a 
member,  I  was  elected  President." 

In  the  summer  of  1906,  Mr.  Alfred  East,  President  of  the 
British  Artists,  and  the  Council,  with  the  courtesy  Whistler 
would  have  approved,  gave  us  permission  to  consult  the 
Minute  Books.  The  first  mention  of  Whistler  is  in  the  Minutes 
1884]  47 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

of  the  half-yearly  General  Meeting,  November  21,  1884,  held 
at  the  Suffolk  Street  Galleries.  Among  those  present  were 
Ayerst  Ingram,  Yeend  King,  David  Law,  Jacomb-Hood, 
H.  H.  Cauty,  the  two  Ludovicis — father  and  son — Bernard 
Evans,  Arthur  Hill,  and  Wyke  Bayliss.  It  was  proposed 
by  Mr.  Hill,  seconded  by  Mr.  Ingram, 

"  that  Mr.  Whistler  be  invited  to  join  the  Society  as  a  member. 
A  discussion  took  place  concerning  the  law  of  electing  Mr.  \Miistler 
by  Ballot,  when  it  was  proposed  by  Mr.  Bayliss,  seconded  by  Mr. 
Cauty,  that  the  law  relating  to  the  election  of  members  be 
suspended." 

This  was  carried,  and,  the  Times  said  (December  3,  1884). 
"  Artistic  society  was  startled  by  the  news  that  this  most 
wayward,  most  un-English  of  painters  had  found  a  home 
among  the  men  of  Suffolk  Street — of  all  people  in  the  world." 

Whistler  had  never  before  belonged  to  any  society  of 
artists  in  England,  and  had  never  been  asked  to  belong  to 
one.  He  was  now  fifty,  an  age  when  most  men  have  "  arrived  " 
officially,  if  they  are  to  "  arrive  "  at  all.  The  reason  why 
the  British  Artists,  at  so  late  a  date,  thought  it  to  their 
advantage  to  invite  him,  and  why  their  action  startled  the 
world,  will  be  better  understood  when  his  position  as  an 
artist  and  his  relations  to  his  contemporaries  are  remembered. 
Up  to  this  moment  he  had  stood  alone,  apart  from  every 
school  and  group  and  movement  in  the  country  which  he 
had  made  his  home.  He  was  as  complete  a  foreigner  in 
England  as  when  he  came,  a  quarter  of  a  century  before, 
fresh  from  the  studios  of  Paris.  As  a  man,  he  was  still  a 
puzzle  to  the  people  among  whom  he  lived,  more  American 
or  French  than  English  in  his  appearance,  his  manners,  and 
his  standards.  His  short,  slight  figure,  his  dark  colouring, 
his  abundant  curls,  his  vivacity  of  gesture,  his  American 
accent,  his  gaiety,  his  sense  of  honour,  his  quick  resentment 
of  an  insult,  were  all  foreign,  and  therefore  to  be  suspected, 
48  [1884 


I 


THE    BRITISH    ARTISTS— THE    RISE 

and  his  personality  increased  the  suspicion  with  which  his 
art  was  regarded.  It  was  as  foreign,  as  "  un-English,"  and 
he  was  found  no  less  disquieting  as  an  artist  than  as  a  man. 
Recent  critics  have  separated  in  his  work  the  several  ten- 
dencies they  have  discovered  there,  and  pointed  out  where 
it  is  American,  where  French,  where  Japanese.  But  to  his 
contemporaries  it  did  not  matter  what  these  tendencies 
were,  since  the  result  was  something  that  was  not  English. 
His  art,  in  its  aims  and  methods,  was  so  entirely  distinct 
from  theirs  that  to  them  he  seemed  in  deliberate  and  ill- 
regulated  opposition,  ruled  by  caprice  and  straining  after 
novelty. 

When  Whistler  came  to  England,  English  art  was  almost 
exclusively  embodied  in  the  Academy  which  had  grown 
stronger  with  every  year  and  was  never  so  powerful  as  in  the 
'seventies  and  'eighties,  though  then  the  fine  traditions  of 
English  art  had  been  forgotten  and  the  painter's  problems 
neglected.  The  artist  was  absorbed  in  anecdote,  in  history, 
in  that  artificial  composition,  constructed  out  of  the  things 
he  did  not  know  and  could  never  see  for  himself,  against 
which  the  young  Frenchmen,  with  whom  Whistler  studied 
in  the  'fifties,  had  been  most  strenuously  in  revolt.  Wilkie 
set  the  ideal  for  the  nineteenth-century  Academician  when 
he  said  that  "  to  know  the  taste  of  the  public — to  learn 
what  will  best  please  the  employer — is  to  an  artist  the  most 
valuable  of  all  knowledge."  It  was  a  knowledge  assiduously 
cultivated  and  with  remarkable  success.  The  classical 
inventions  of  Leighton,  Tadema,  and  Poynter  appealed  to 
the  scholar ;  the  idyls  of  Millais,  Marcus  Stone  and  Leslie 
to  the  sentimentalist.  Watts  preached  sermons  for  the 
serious,  Stacy  Marks  raised  a  laugh  in  the  humourist,  Herbert 
and  Long  edified  the  pious.  Every  taste  was  catered  to. 
Everybody  could  understand,  and,  as  a  consequence,  art 
had  never  been  so  popular  in  England.  The  Academy 
ISS*]  II  :d  49 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

became  a  social  force.  As  art  was  the  last  thing  looked 
for  in  the  picture  of  the  Academician,  so  the  artist  was  the 
last  thing  looked  for  in  the  Academician.  The  situation  is 
summed  up  in  WTiistler's  reply  to  a  group  of  ladies  who  were 
praising  Leighton  : 

"  He  is  such  a  wonderful  musician  ! — such  a  gallant  colonel ! — 
such  a  briUiant  orator  ! — such  a  dignified  President ! — such  a 
charming  host ! — such  an  amazing  linguist !  " — "  H'm,  paints, 
too,  don't  he,  among  his  other  accomphshments  ?  " 

It  was  an  extraordinary  state  of  affairs.  "  Art "  was 
little  more  than  an  excuse  for  all  sorts  of  social  trivialities. 
The  men  who  were  thought  daring  in  I'ebellion  and  leaders 
of  a  secession  did  little  to  improve  matters.  The  Pre- 
Raphaelites  and  their  followers  were  as  absorbed  in  subject, 
though  they  paid  greater  attention  to  the  treatment  of  it, 
and  preached,  as  almost  all  reformers  always  have,  a  return 
to  Nature.  But  their  attempts  at  reform  in  technique 
retarded  rather  than  helped  development  in  the  right  direc- 
tion. Their  insistence  upon  detail  and  "  finish  "  did  not 
open  the  painter's  eyes  to  the  truths  and  beauties  of  Nature, 
but  closed  them  more  hopelessly  than  ever  by  making  it  a 
matter  of  duty  with  him  to  see  nothing  but  subordinate, 
often  unimportant,  facts,  and  to  copy  them  with  the  fidehty 
of  a  machine.  The  rare  exception,  like  Alfred  Stevens,  who 
neither  stooped  to  consider  the  taste  of  public  and  employer 
nor  forgot  the  artist  in  the  missionary,  was  as  complete  a 
pariah  as  Whistler. 

The  position  in  France  was  different.  There,  too,  was 
a  strong,  powerful,  academic  body,  but  French  officialism 
respected  tradition.  The  art  of  the  academic  painters 
might  be  frigid,  conventional  and  dull,  but  it  was  never 
petty  and  trivial,  never  strove  to  please  by  escape  from  the 
obligations  and  restrictions  of  drawing  and  paint.  Gleyre, 
Ary  Scheffer,  Couture  were  the  masters  Whistler  found 
50  [1884 


THE    BRITISH    A  R  T  I  S  T  S— T  H  E    RISE 

in  Paris.  Their  successors — men  like  Gerome,  Jean-Paul, 
Laurens,  Bouguereau,  Bonnat — did  not  altogether  throw 
their  dignity  as  artists  to  the  winds  of  popularity,  or  sacrifice 
it  to  social  ambition.  The  rebels  in  France  were  not  actuated 
by  moral  or  literary  motives,  but  broke  away  from  convention 
as  painters.  Rebellion  sent  Holman  Hunt  to  Palestine, 
Rossetti  to  mediaevalism,  Bume-Jones  to  legend  and  alle- 
gory ;  it  kept  Courbet  at  home,  for  the  true  was  the  beau- 
tiful, and  truth  was  to  be  had  in  the  life  and  the  people  the 
painter  knew  as  well  as  in  strange  lands  and  outlived  cen- 
turies. Moreover,  the  painter  was  to  see  all  these  things, 
not  as  throvigh  a  microscope,  but  as  the  human  eye  was 
made  to  see  them.  No  man  who  looks  out  ujjon  a  broad 
landscape  can  count  the  blades  of  grass  in  a  field  or  the 
leaves  of  ivy  on  a  wall  ;  the  eye  can  take  it  in  only  as  a 
whole,  enveloped  in  atmosphere,  bathed  in  light,  all  objects 
in  it  keeping  their  places  in  their  respective  planes.  While, 
in  England,  the  artist  was  searching  the  Scriptures,  the 
classics  and  history  for  subject,  and  always  for  subject,  in 
France  he  was  training  his  eyes  to  see  things  as  they  are 
and  his  hand  to  render  them  in  their  proper  relations,  that  is, 
with  their  proper  values.  This  pre-occupation  with  the  aspect 
of  Nature,  and  the  study  of  values,  gave  them  new  pictorial 
and  technical  problems  to  solve,  and  subject  counted  for 
nothing,  except  as  an  aid  to  their  right  solution.  It  is 
curious  to  contrast  the  work  of  the  men  in  France  and  England 
who  were  of  the  same  generation  as  Whistler.  The  young 
Fantin-Latour  grouped  his  friends  about  the  portrait  of  the 
master  dead  but  yesterday,  while  the  young  Leighton  was 
re-arranging  a  procession  of  early  Florentines  to  carry  anew 
the  Madonna  of  Cimabue  through  their  streets.  Manet 
noted  the  play  of  light  and  colour  in  the  bull-rings  of  Spain, 
while  Tadema  rebuilt  on  his  canvas  the  arenas  of  ancient 
Rome.  Degas  chose  his  models  among  the  washerwomen 
18S-1]  51 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

and  ballet-girls  of  modern  Paris,  while  Rossetti  borrowed  his 
from  Dante. 

Whistler,  from  his  very  first  picture,  was  as  pre-oceupied 
with  the  beauty  in  the  "  familiar "  as  his  French  fellow 
students.  Wliat  might  have  happened  had  he  remained  in 
France — whether  he  would  have  developed  into  another 
Fantin,  another  Manet,  another  Degas — it  is  idle  to  discuss. 
Coming  to  England,  he  developed  in  his  own  way,  and  this 
was  a  way  with  which  English  painters  had  no  sympathy 
whatever.  He  was  so  isolated,  so  apart,  in  his  work,  that 
nothing  has  been  more  difficult  for  the  historian  of  modern 
art  than  to  place,  to  classify,  him.  Some  authorities  have 
included  him  among  the  Realists.  His  work  eventually 
differed  from  that  of  Courbet  and  Courbet's  disciples,  but 
he  was  always  as  much  a  realist  as  they  in  his  preference  for 
the  world  in  which  he  lived,  and  in  his  study  of  the  relations 
to  each  other — the  values — of  the  things  he  found  in  it.  He 
never  wavered,  except  when  he  painted  the  Japanese  pictures 
as  we  have  pointed  out,  and  even  then  he  was  not  led  astray 
by  anecdote,  or  sentiment,  but  bj^  the  beauty  that  had 
drifted  from  Japan  into  his  house  and  studio.  London, 
foggy,  dirty,  gloomy,  despised  by  most  artists,  with  its  little 
shops  and  taverns  in  the  fog-bound  streets  ;  the  Thames, 
with  its  ugly  warehouses  and  gaunt  factories  in  the  mist- 
laden  night ;  the  crinolines  of  the  'sixties  ;  the  clinging, 
tight  draperies  of  the  'seventies, — became  beautiful  as  he 
saw  them.  He  made  no  effort  to  reform,  to  improve  upon 
Nature,  only  reserving  for  himself  his  right  to  select  the 
elements  in  it  that  Avere  beautiful  and  could  be  brought 
together,  as  the  notes  in  music,  to  create  harmonj^ — in  his 
practice  carrying  out  his  teaching  of  the  Ten  o'Clock.  He 
sought  colour  and  form  in  nature,  not  infinitesimal  detail. 
The  Pre-Raphaelites  wanted  to  leave  out  as  little  as  a  camera 
omits,  he  wanted  to  put  in  no  more  than  comes  within  the 
52  [1884 


TIIIO    UAIXOXY 

llJnniinny  hi  P'lenh  Cvlour  and  Gneui 


THE    BRITISH    ARTISTS— THE    RISE 

painter's  vision.  He  turned  his  back  on  the  history  and 
archasology  in  favour  at  the  Academy,  filling  his  canvas 
with  no  meaning  except  whatever  there  may  be  in  the  beauty 
of  rhythm  and  design.  And  all  the  time  he  struggled  to 
perfect  his  technical  methods,  to  make  of  them  a  perfect 
medium  by  which  to  express  this  beauty,  to  reconcile  what 
he  could  see  in  Nature  with  what  his  brush  could  render. 
The  Pre-Raphaelites  laboured  over  their  canvas,  inch  by 
inch  ;  he  painted  his  whole  picture  at  once  that  unity  might 
be  the  result.  The  Academicians  lost  their  way  in  literary 
labyrinths  ;  he  lingered  on  the  river,  getting  by  heart  the 
secret  of  its  charm,  he  watched  the  movement,  the  pose,  of 
the  men  and  women  around  him.  The  modern  exhibition 
forced  most  painters  into  violent  colour  and  exaggerated 
action  as  their  one  chance  of  attracting  attention  ;  he  made 
no  concession  but  kept  on  painting  for  himself,  though 
he  was  ready  to  submit  his  pictures  when  they  were  finished 
to  the  same  test  as  others. 

It  was  inevitable  that  his  English  contemporaries  could 
make  nothing  of  him  and  eyed  his  work  with  doubt  and 
mistrust.  The  Academician  saw  nothing  at  all  in  his  pic- 
tures. To  the  Pre-Raphaelite  they  were  slovenly  and  super- 
ficial. Holnian  Hunt  said  of  him  that  he  knew  where  to 
leave  oft  and  was  careful  in  the  avoidance  of  difficulties  ; 
]\Iillais  thought  him  "  a  great  power  of  mischief  among 
young  men,"  "  a  man  who  had  never  learnt  the  grammar  of 
his  art."  The  critics  took  their  cue  from  the  painters,  the 
more  willingly  because  art  criticism  then  meant  the  elaborate 
analysis  of  the  subject  of  a  picture,  and,  judged  by  the 
prevailing  standpoint,  there  was  no  subject  in  Whistler's 
pictures  to  analyse.  The  public,  in  the  public's  usual  fashion, 
followed  like  sheep,  convinced  that  his  work  was  empty, 
slight,  trivial,  an  insult  to  their  intelligence,  unless  they 
took  it  as  a  jest.  "  Eccentric  "  still  was  the  usual  adjective 
188+]  53 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

to  apply  to  him,  and  nothing  explains  the  popular  conception 
of  him  better  than  the  readiness  to  see  eccentricity  even  in 
those  methods  which  he,  "  heir  to  all  the  ages,"  had  inherited  I 

from   other  masters.     Thus,   his  long-handled   brushes   and  , 

his  manner  of  jilacing  sitter  and  canvas  when  he  painted  a  I 

portrait  were  eccentric,  though  they  had  been  Gainsborough's 
a  century  before.  Again,  to  say  that  a  picture  was  finished 
from  the  beginning  was  no  less  eccentric,  though  it  was  one 
of  Baudelaire's  favourite  axioms  that  the  author  already 
foresees  the  last  line  of  his  work  when  he  writes  the  first. 
It  is  easier  to  make  than  to  lose  the  reputation  for  eccen- 
tricity, which  is  fatal  to  success  in  a  land  of  convention. 
Wliistler  saw  the  Englishmen,  Avho  had  studied  in  Paris  at 
the  same  time  with  him,  laden  with  honours — Poynter,  a 
distinguished  member  of  the  Academy  and  Leighton  its 
President,  Du  Maurier  the  favoured  contributor  to  Punch, 
Armstrong  an  imjiortant  official  at  South  Kensington — when 
he  was  still,  officially,  on  the  outside — at  fifty  less  honoured 
than  at  twenty -five,  because  now  it  was  said  that  he  had  not 
realised  the  promise  of  his  youth. 

In  one  respect,  however,  his  position  had  changed  with 
time — his  position  among  the  young.  His  contemporaries 
did  not  alter  their  opinion  of  him,  but  the  new  generation 
of  artists,  grown  up  in  the  meanwhile  and  now  "  arriving," 
turned  to  him  as  unmistakably  as  the  older  men  held  aloof. 
Though  doubted  and  mistrusted,  he  had  never  been  quite 
without  influence.  To  look  over  old  reviews  and  notices  of 
exhibitions  is  to  find,  long  before  the  'eighties,  frequent 
references  to  the  effect  of  his  example  upon  other  artists. 
During  the  "eighties,  in  the  Art  Journal  (June  1887),  Sir 
Walter  Armsti'ong  traced  the  growing  influence  of  French 
on  English  art  to  the  Paris  Universal  Exhibition  of  1867  and 
to  Whistler.  But  the  artists  of  the  new  generation  went 
much  further  than  the  admission  of  his  influence ;  with  the 
54  [18«^ 


THE    BRITISH    ARTISTS— THE    RISE 

enthusiasm  of  youth,  they  proclaimed  Whistler's  greatness 
from  the  house-tops.  He  was  not  only  an  influence,  he  was 
their  master — the  one  master  in  England.  After  his  return 
from  Venice,  when  his  fortunes  were  at  their  lowest  ebb 
and  the  public  held  him  in  most  contempt,  this  enthusiasm 
began  to  make  itself  heard  and  felt  in  the  studios  and  the 
schools. 

It  was  the  moment  also  when  the  fortunes  of  the  British 
Artists  were  at  lowest  ebb,  and  heroic  measures  were  needed 
to  mend  them.  The  Society,  as  Whistler  said,  was  old,  with 
distinguished  chapters  in  its  history.  It  was  formed  by 
one  of  the  first  groups  who  realised  the  necessity  of  an  asso- 
ciation of  their  own  in  self-defence  against  the  monopoly  of 
the  Academy.  It  dated  back  to  the  beginning  of  the  nine- 
teenth century.  With  the  old  Water  Colour  Society,  it  was 
held  by  the  public  only  second  in  rank  to  the  Academy.  Its 
gallery  was  in  Suffolk  Street,  near  enough  to  the  Academy  to 
profit  by  any  overflow  of  visitors,  until  the  Academy  moved 
from  Trafalgar  Square  to  Piccadilly.  The  old  Water-colour 
Society  was  more  independent,  because  it  devoted  itself  to  a 
branch  of  art  never  in  high  Academical  favour.  But  the 
British  Artists  suffered  from  this  removal,  and  also  from  the 
formation  of  new  associations  that  gave  prominence  to  oil 
painting,  and  eventually  it  found  a  formidable  rival  in  the 
Grosvenor  Gallery,  backed  by  money,  with  the  attraction  of 
novelty  and  the  advertisement  of  notoriety.  Uncertain  of 
their  future,  they  were  forced  to  desperate  remedies.  In 
Whistler,  with  his  enthusiastic  following  among  the  young 
and  rising,  they  seemed  to  see  just  the  man  to  drag  them 
from  the  pit  of  obscurity  and  impotence  into  which  they 
were  sinking.  The  older  members  hesitated — afraid  of 
Whistler,  afraid  of  the  Academy,  afraid  of  themselves.  But 
the  younger  members  carried  the  day. 

Whistler  accepted  their  advances,  strange  as  it  struck 
188i]  55 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

people  at  the  time,  because  he  always  wished  for,  and  appre- 
ciated, official  honours  and  recognition.  It  was  the  first 
formal  compliment  from  any  body  of  his  fellow  craftsmen, 
and  he  was  gratified  by  it,  realising  also  that  his  identification 
with  a  society  of  respectable  age  and  standing  would  most 
certainly  influence  public  opinion  concerning  himself. 
^\^listle^*s  acceptance  of  the  honour  was  not  an  empty  form. 
He  worked  hard  for  the  Society  from  his  election  as  a  member 
to  his  resignation  as  President.  He  attended  his  first  meeting 
on  December  1,  1884,  and  interested  himself  immediately 
in  the  affairs  of  the  Society,  though,  according  to  Mr.  Ludo- 
vici,  this  was  the  last  thing  the  Society  expected  of  him. 
He  prompth'  invited  his  President  and  fellow  members  to 
breakfast  in  Tite  Street,  and,  as  promptly,  was  put  on  a 
committee  for  a  smoking  concert,  or  conversazione.  He  at 
once  sent  to  the  Winter  Exhibition  (1884-85)  two  pictures — 
Arrangement  in  Black,  No.  II.,  the  portrait  of  Mrs.  Louis 
Huth,  not  exhibited  in  London  since  1874,  and  a  water- 
colour,  A  Little  Red  Note,  Dordrecht,  and  for  the  Summer 
Exhibition  (1885)  he  kept  his  latest  work,  the  Sarasate, 
never  exhibited  before.  Mr.  Cole,  seeing  the  portrait  in  the 
studio  the  preceding  October,  wrote  in  his  diary  : 

"October  \Wi  (1884):  M.  and  I  went  to  tea  with  Whistler  to 
see  his  fine  full-length  of  Sarasate,  the  violinist,  for  next  year's 
Academy." 

But,  whatever  his  original  intention  may  have  been,  the 
Sarasate  went  to  the  British  Artists,  with  several  small  deli- 
cate Notes  and  Harmonies.  If,  in  electing  him,  the  British 
Artists  hoped  to  attract  attention  to  their  exhibition,  they 
were  not  disappointed.  "  The  eccentric  Mr.  Whistler  has 
gone  to  a  neglected  little  galler}-,  the  British  Artists,  which 
he  will  probably  bring  into  fashion,"  Mr.  Claude  Philhps 
wrote  in  the  Gazette  des  Beaux-Arts  (July  1885),  and  this  is 
56  [1885 


THE    BRITISH    A  R  T  I  S  T  S— T  H  E    RISE 

precisely  what  happened.  The  distinction  of  the  Sarasate 
could  not  be  denied.  But  in  his  other  work  he  was  pro- 
nounced "  vastly  amusing  "  ;  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette  seized 
this  occasion  to  remind  him  of  "  Dr.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes' 
virtuous  determination  never  to  be  as  funny  as  he  could.  It 
is  so  bad  for  the  young." 

At  a  meeting  on  June  1  (1885),  Whistler  proposed  that 
Sunday  receptions  should  be  given  in  the  gallery,  and  he 
was  put  on  the  committee  with  Mr.  John  Burr,  the  President, 
and  Ml'.  G.  A.  Holmes.  He  seconded  Mr.  Ingram's  reso- 
lution that  the  Society  should  award  two  medals,  one  for 
figure,  the  other  for  landscape.  He  took  part  in  the  election 
of  Mr.  Mortimer  Menpes  as  "  a  member  for  water-colour," 
showing  that  water-colour  was  regarded  as  a  separate  art, 
and  members  might  be  elected  as  water-colour  painters 
without  being  members  for  other  mediums — a  division  into 
distinct  sections  that  he  carried  out  in  the  International 
Society,  as  he  did  also  the  suggestion  now  made  that  photo- 
graphs of  members'  pictures  should  be  sold  in  the  gallery. 
For  the  Winter  Exhibition  of  1885-86  he  had  another  interest- 
ing group,  including  the  Portrait  of  Mrs.  Cassatt  and  the 
Note  in  Green  and  Violet,  a  small  pastel  of  a  nude  which 
created  the  most  unexpected  sensation.  About  a  month 
before  the  show  opened,  J.  C.  Horsley,  R.A.,  had  read  during 
a  Church  Congress  a  paper  no  one  would  have  given  a 
thought  to,  had  not  Whistler  immortalised  it.  Horsley 
said  : 

"  If  those  who  talk  and  write  so  glibly  as  to  the  desirability  of 
artists  devoting  themselves  to  the  representation  of  the  naked 
Imman  form,  only  knew  a  tithe  of  the  degradation  enacted  before 
the  model  is  sufficiently  hardened  to  her  .shameful  calling,  they 
would  forever  hold  their  tongues  and  pens  in  supporting  the 
practice.  Is  not  clothedness  a  distinct  type  and  feature  of  our 
Christian  faith  ?  All  art  representations  of  nakedness  are  out  of 
harmony  with  it." 
18S5]  57 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

Whistler  answered  with  "  one  of  the  little  things  that 
Providence  sometimes  sent  him  "  :  "  Horsley  soil  qui  mal  y 
pense,"  he  >vrote  on  a  label,  and  fastened  it  to  the  Note  in 
Green  and  Violet.  The  British  Artists  were  alarmed,  for  to 
enter  Suffolk  Street  was  not  to  abandon  all  hope  of  the 
Academy.  The  label  was  removed,  but  not  before  it  had 
been  seen.  The  Pall  Mall  was  pleased  to  refer  to  the  label 
as  Whistler's  "  indignant  protest  against  the  idea  that 
there  is  any  immorality  in  the  nude."  But  Whistler,  who 
knew  when  ridicule  served  better  than  indignation,  wrote, 
"  Art  certainly  requires  no  '  indignant  protest '  against  the 
unseemliness  of  senility.  Horsley  soit  qui  mal  y  pense  is 
meanwhile  a  sweet  sentiment — why  more — and  why 
'  morality  '  ?  " 

When  'Whistler  was  asked  to  join  the  Society,  its  revenue 
had  been  rapidly  decreasing,  and  a  deficit  of  five  hundred 
pounds  had  to  be  faced.  To  meet  the  difficulty  by  economy 
he  proposed,  to  begin  with,  that  the  luncheon  on  press 
day  be  discontinued.  It  was  an  almost  general  custom 
then  to  feast  the  critics  who  attended  the  press  view  of 
picture  exhibitions.  But  in  few  was  the  cloth  more  lavishly 
spread  for  the  press  than  at  the  British  Artists',  in  few 
were  boxes  of  cigars  and  whisky-and-soda  placed  so  con- 
veniently. Some  critics  resented  it,  others  liked  it.  Press 
day,  the  dreariest  in  the  year  at  the  Royal  Academy,  was 
the  most  delightful  at  the  British  Artists',  they  said. 
Mr.  Sidney  Starr  tells  a  story  of  one  of  these  press 
views,  when  ^Vhistler  had  not  hung  his  picture,  but  only 
the  frame  : 

"  Telegrams  were  sent  imploring  the  placing  of  the  canvas. 
But  the  only  answer  that  came  was,  '  The  Press  have  ye  ahvaj's 
with  you,  feed  my  lambs.'  A  smoking  concert  followed  during 
the  exhibition.  At  this,  one  critic  said  to  the  Master,  '  Your 
picture  is  not  up  to  your  mark ;  it  is  not  good  this  time.'  '  You 
58  [1885 


THE    BRITISH    ARTISTS— THE    RISE 

should  not  say  it  isn't  good ;  you  should  say  you  don't  like  it, 
and  then,  you  kno\v,  you're  perfectly  safe ;  now  come  and  have 
something  you  do  like,  have  some  whisky,'  said,  Whistler." 

In  the  place  of  the  luncheon,  Whistler  suggested  a  Sunday 
breakfast  when  members  should  pay  for  themselves  and 
their  guests.  But  members  were  horrified,  and  his  motion 
was  rejected. 

In  April  1886,  Mr.  William  Graham's  collection  came  up 
for  auction  at  Christie's.  The  sale  brought  to  it  all  the  buyers 
and  admirers  of  Rossetti,  Burne-Jones,  Holman  Hunt,  many 
of  whose  best  pictures  Graham  had  bought.  Whistler's 
Nocturne  in  Blue  and  Silver  {Blue  and  Gold),  Old  Battersea 
Bridge  belonged  to  him.  When  it  appeared,  "  there  was  a 
slight  attempt  at  an  ironical  cheer,  which,  being  mistaken 
for  serious  applause,  was  instantly  suppressed  by  an  angry 
hiss  all  round,"  and  it  was  sold  for  sixty  pounds  to  Mr. 
R.  H.  C.  Harrison.  Whistler  acknowledged,  through  the 
Observer  (April  11,  1886),  "the  distinguished,  though  I  fear 
unconscious,  compliment  so  publicly  paid."  Such  recog- 
nition rarely,  he  said,  came  to  the  painter  during  his  lifetime, 
and  to  his  friends  he  spoke  of  it  as  an  unheard-of  success, 
the  first  time  such  a  thing  had  happened.  The  hisses  still 
in  their  ears,  the  British  Artists  were  dismayed  by  his  one 
contribution  to  the  Summer  Exhibition  of  1886.  This  was 
a  Harmony  in  Blue  and  Gold,  a  large  full-length  of  a  girl  in 
transparent  draperies  of  blue  and  green,  leaning  against  a 
railing  and  holding  a  parasol  behind  her,  an  arrangement, 
like  the  Six  Projects,  uniting  classic  design  with  Japanese 
detail.  The  draperies  were  transparent ;  and  to  defy 
Horsley  and  the  British  Matron  was  no  part  of  the  British 
Artists'  policy.  But  this  time  they  escaped  without 
scandal.  Whistler  sent  no  other  pictures  to  Suffolk  Street ; 
he  was  not  represented  at  all  at  the  Grosvenor,  and  at  the 
Salon  only  by  his  Sarasate,  which  went  on  afterwards  to  the 
18S6]  59 


JAMES    McXEILL    WHISTLER 

"XX"  Club  in  Brussels.  His  principal  show  in  1886  was  at 
^Messrs.  Dowdesweirs  Gallery.  Thej^  exhibited  and  published 
for  him  this  year  the  Set  of  Twenty-Six  Etchings,  twenty-one  of 
the  plates  done  in  Venice,  the  other  five  in  England,  the  price 
of  the  Set  fifty  guineas.  With  the  prints  he  issued  the  often 
quoted  Propositions,  the  first  series :  the  laws,  as  he  defined 
them,  of  etching.  He  upheld  that,  in  etching,  as  in  everj'  other 
art,  the  space  covered  should  be  in  proportion  to  the  means 
used  for  covering  it,  and  that  the  delicacy  of  the  needle  de- 
mands the  smallness  of  the  plate  ;  that  the  "Remarque," 
then  so  much  in  vogue,  emanated  from  the  amateur  ;  that 
there  should  be  no  margin  to  receive  a  "  Remarque  "  ;  and  that 
the  habit  of  margin  again  came  from  the  outsider.  For  a 
few  j'ears  these  Propositions  were  accepted  bj-  artists.  At 
the  present  time,  they  are  ignored  or  defied,  and  the  bigger 
the  plate,  the  better  pleased  is  the  etcher  and  his  public. 
It  was  a  little  later  in  the  year,  in  May,  that  Messrs.  Dowdeswell 
arranged  in  their  gallery  a  second  series  of  Notes — Harmonies 
— Nocturnes.  A  few  were  in  oil,  a  few  in  pencil,  but  the 
larger  number  were  pastels  and  water-colours.  They  were 
studies  of  the  nude,  impressions  of  the  sea  at  Dieppe  and 
Dover,  St.  Ives  and  Trouville,  the  little  shops  of  London  and 
Paris,  the  skies  and  canals  of  Holland.  ^^^listIer  decorated 
the  gallery  in  Brown  and  Gold ;  choosing  the  brown  paper 
for  the  walls  ;  designing  the  mouldings  of  the  dado.  Mr. 
Walter  Dowdeswell  still  has  the  sketch  in  which  he  suggested 
the  scheme  of  raw  umber,  yellow  ochre  and  raw  Sienna,  with 
white,  and  the  brown  and  yellow  hangings,  and  yellow 
velarium.  The  exhibition  Avas  received  with  mingled  ex- 
pressions of  praise  and  blame,  and  it  would  not  have  been 
a  success  financially,  had  not  Mr.  H.  S.  Theobald,  K.C., 
purchased,  in  the  end,  all  that  earlier  buyers  left  on  Messrs. 
Dowdeswell's  hands. 

In  the  following  summer  Jlr.  Burr  refused  to  stand  again  for 
60  [1886 


CREMOKXE  GAKDIiNS 

(Nocfurne  Xo.  III.) 


WKSTMINSTKU 

(AdCtiii-nc,  li/ur  and  Silren 


THE    BRITISH    A  R  T  I  S  T  S— T  H  E    RISE 

the  Presidency,  and,  at  a  General  Meeting  (June  1,  1886), 
Whistler  was  elected  in  his  place.  Mr.  Ingram  tells  us  that 
the  excitement  at  this  election  was  intense.  Whistler  alone 
was  calm  and  unmoved.  Mr.  Ingram,  a  scrutineer,  remembers 
coming  for  Whistler's  vote,  and  being  so  excited  himself  that 
Whistler  tried  to  reassure  him  :  "  Never  mind,  never  mind, 
you've  done  your  best  !  "  Whistler  was  elected  and  the 
meeting  adjourned  to  the  Hogarth  Club  for  supjDcr.  "  J'y 
suis,  fy  reste,"  Whistler  wired  to  his  brother.  The  comic 
papers  were  full  of  caricatures,  the  serious  papers  of 
astonishment.  He  was  hailed  as  "  President  Whistler  "  bj'- 
his  friends,  and  denounced  by  members  of  the  Society  as  an 
artist  with  no  claim  to  be  called  British.  Younger  artists, 
William  Stott  of  Oldham  among  them,  rushed  to  his  support, 
and  one  French  critic  in  London  was  bold  enough  to  declare 
his  place  to  be  in  the  Louvre  between  Velasquez  and  Tintoretto. 
Whistler  had  intended  going  to  America  in  the  autumn,  but 
the  journey  was  indefinitely  postponed.  He  wrote  to  the 
World  (October  13,  1886),  "  this  is  no  time  for  hesitation — 
one  cannot  continually  disappoint  a  Continent,"  and  he  settled 
down  to  the  new  and  difficult  task  of  directing  the  fortunes 
of  a  Society  which  was  far  from  prosperous  and  looked  to 
him  for  help  in  its  evil  day,  its  members  divided  among 
themselves,  in  nothing  more  than  in  their  confidence  in  him 
as  President. 


1886]  6l 


CHAPTER  XXX.  THE  BRITISH  ARTISTS— 
THE  FALL.  THE  YEARS  EIGHTEEN  EIGHTY- 
SIX  TO  EIGHTEEN  EIGHTY-EIGHT 

ACCORDING  to  the  constitution  of  the  British  Artists, 
the  President,  though  elected  in  June,  does  not  take 
office  until  December,  ^^^listle^  presided  for  the  first  time 
at  a  meeting  on  December  10,  1886,  and,  from  that  day, 
he  was  supported  devotedly  by  one  faction  and  opposed  by 
the  other  with  hostilitj'  and  a  want  of  loj'alty  which  led  to 
failure  in  the  end. 

His  interest  became  more  active  with  his  new  responsibility. 
His  first  appearance  as  President  in  the  Winter  Exhibition 
(1886-87)  was  an  artistic  success  for  the  British  Artists.  He 
decorated  the  galleries  with  the  care  he  gave  to  his  own  shows. 
He  put  up  a  velarium,  he  hung  the  walls  with  muslin.  For 
those  who  worked  with  him  there  Was  a  moment  of  despair, 
for  at  the  last  the  muslin  gave  out,  leaving  a  bare  space  under 
the  ceiling.  "  But  what  matter  ?  "  Whistler  said,  "  the 
battens  are  well  placed,  they  make  decorative  lines,"  and  the 
bare  space  became  part  of  the  decoration.  He  would  allow 
no  overcrowding,  the  walls  were  to  be  the  background  of 
good  pictures  well  spaced  and  well  arranged.  He  urged  the 
virtue  of  rejection.  Mr.  Sidney  Starr  says,  "  he  w^as  oblivious 
to  every  interest  but  the  quality  of  the  work  shown."  He 
told  Mr.  Menpes,  one  of  the  Hanging  Committee, 

"If  you  are  uncertain  for  a  moment,  say  'Out.'      We  want 

clean  spaces  round  our  pictures.     We  want  them  to  be  seen. 
The  British  Artists'  must  cease  to  be  a  shop." 

62  [1886 


THE    BRITISH    A  R  T  I  S  T  S— T  H  E    FALL 

This  was  his  first  offence.  The  modern  exhibition  is  nothing 
but  a  shop,  and  as  long  as  most  artists  have  their  Way  a  shop 
it  must  remain.  He  himself  was  exhibiting  a  splendid  group 
that  included  the  Nocturne  in  Brown  arid  Gold  (afterwards 
Blue  and  Gold),  St.  Mark's,  Venice ;  Harmony  in  Red : 
Lamplight,  the  portrait  of  Mrs.  Godwin  ;  and  Harmony  in 
White  and  Ivory :  Lady  Colin  Campbell,  a  beautiful  portrait 
of  a  beautiful  woman,  one  of  many  that  have  disappeared. 
It  was  not  finished  when  Whistler  sent  it  to  the  exhibition, 
which  was  made  an  excuse  by  dissatisfied  members  to  pro- 
pose its  removal.  The  question  was  not  "  put "  at  the 
request  of  the  meeting  when  the  matter  came  ujd,  but 
another  proposition  to  define  the  rights  of  the  President  and 
the  President-elect  was  carried. 

Whistler's  interest  was  no  less  active  in  the  Society's 
business  affairs  than  in  the  arrangement  of  its  gallery. 
One  of  his  first  acts  was  to  offer  to  advance  or  loan  the 
Society  five  hundred  pounds  to  pay  off  its  pressing  debt. 
Mr.  Sidney  Starr  describes  him, 

"  during  this  time  of  fluctuating  finances,  pawning  his  large  gold 
medal  from  Paris  one  day,  lending  five  hundred  pounds  to  the 
British  Artists  the  next.  He  often  found  '  a  long  face  and  a  short 
account  at  the  bank,'  as  he  said  one  day." 

He  did  everything  he  could  to  broaden  the  scope  and  increase 
the  prestige  of  the  Society.  All  that  was  "  charming  "  was 
to  be  encouraged,  all  that  was  tedious  was  to  be  done  away 
with.  He  secured  distinguished  artists  as  members  :  Charles 
Keene,  Alfred  Stevens,  and  the  more  promising  among  the 
younger  men.  He  allowed  several  to  call  themselves  in  the 
catalogue  "  pupils  of  Whistler,"  and  to  make  drawings 
of  the  gallery,  and  of  his  pictures,  which  he  had  first  made 
himself,  for  the  illustrated  papers.  The  curious  will  find 
sketches  by  him  of  the  Sarasate  in'the  Pall  Mall's  Pictures 
of  1885,  and  of  the  Harmony  in  Blue  and  Gold,  as  well  as 
1886]  63 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 


of  his  exhibition  at  Dowdeswell's  gallery,  in  Pictures  of 
1886.  But  Mr.  Theodore  Roussel,  Mr.  Waiter  Sickert,  Mr. 
Sidney  Starr  now  signed  these  drawings  for  reproduction. 
He  did  his  best  for  the  Art  L'nions  organised  by  the  Society, 
giving  a  plate.  The  Fish  Shop — Busy  Chelsea  one  year,  and 
another,  a  Httle  picture  done  at  St.  Ives.  Whistler's  greatest 
exertions  were  devoted  to  the  improvement  of  the  exhibitions. 
In  the  March  meeting  (1887)  he  projiosed  a  limit  of  size  for  all 
the  exhibits,  he  contributed  twenty  pounds  towards  a  further 
scheme  of  decoration,  and  he  presented  four  velvet  curtains 
for  the  doorwavs  in  the  large  room.  There  is  a  drawing, 
showing  curtains  and  velarium  by  Mr.  Roussel  in  the  Pall 
MalVs  Pictures  of  1887.  All  Whistler's  finest  work  was 
again  reserved  for  the  gallery  in  Suffolk  Street.  His  early 
pictures,  Nocturne  in  Blue  and  Gold,  Valparaiso  Bay;  Xoc- 
turiie  in  Black  and  Gold,  The  Gardens  (Cremorne) ;  Harmony 
in  Grey,  Chelsea  in  Ice,  were  hung  that  year,  and  with  them 
one  of  his  latest.  Arrangement  in  Violet  and  Pink,  Portrait  of 
Mrs.  Walter  Sickert. 

To  those  in  opposition,  the  President's  innovations  seemed 
an  interference  with  their  rights.  He  might  pay  their  debts, 
— that  was  one  thing  ;  it  was  quite  another  to  make  their 
gallery  beautiful  with  the  beauty  to  which  serious  papers  like 
the  Portfolio,  applied  the  old  adjective  "  eccentric,"  and  to 
"  chuck  out  "  their  pictures.  Their  resentment  increased 
on  the  occasion  of  a  visit  from  the  Prince  of  Wales.  Whistler 
stayed  late  one  night  in  Suffolk  Street,  to  finish  the  work 
of  decoration.  When  the  members  came  the  next  day, 
doors  and  mantelpieces  were  painted  primrose  yellow.  There 
was  grumbling,  and  the  dissatisfaction  was  carried  that  evening 
to  a  Smoking  Concert  at  the  Hogarth  Club,  where  everybody 
was  talking  of  the  arrangement  in  yellow.  Whistler,  when 
they  ventured  to  find  fault  with  him,  refused  to  have  anjiihing 
further  to  do  with  the  decorations,  though  these  were  still 
64  [1887 


THE    BRITISH    A  R  T  I  S  T  S— T  H  E    FALL 

unfinished.  He  was  telegraphed  for.  "  So  discreet  of  you 
all  at  the  Hogarth,"  was  the  answer,  and  he  did  not  appear 
until  it  was  time  to  meet  the  Prince,  though  dissatisfied 
members  worked  to  tone  down  the  yellows,  to  the  very 
moment  of  the  Prince's  arrival.     Whistler  told  us  : 

"  I  went  downstairs  to  meet  the  Prince.  As  we  were  walking 
up,  I  a  little  in  front  with  the  Princess,  the  Prince,  who  always 
liked  to  be  well  informed  in  these  matters,  asked  what  the 
Society  was  ? — was  it  an  old  institution  ?  What  was  its  history  ? 
'Sir,  it  has  none,  its  history  begins  to-day!'   I  said." 

The  dissatisfaction  was  carried  promptly  to  a  meeting,  when 
a  proposition  was  made  and  passed  "  that  the  experiment  of 
hanging  pictures  in  an  isolated  manner  be  discontinued," 
and  that,  in  future,  enough  works  be  accepted  to  cover  the 
vacant  space  above  and  below  the  line — in  fact,  that  the 
gallery  be  hung  as  before.  It  is  said  that  some  members 
went  so  far  as  to  make  an  estimate  of  the  amount  of  wall 
space  left  bare,  and  calculate  the  exact  loss  it  meant  in 
pounds,  shillings  and  pence. 

We  saw  this  exhibition,  though  we  did  not  see  Whistler. 
We  remember  the  quiet,  well-spaced  walls,  and  the  portrait 
of  Mrs.  Sickert,  also  works  by  Dannat  and  William  Stott. 
It  should  not  be  forgotten  that  the  British  Artists'  was 
arranged  and  hung  by  \Miistler  years  before  there  was  any 
idea  of  artistic  hanging  in  German  Secessions  — we  believe 
before  there  were  any  Secessions.  Whistler  had  applied  to 
his  own  shows  the  same  method  of  spacing  and  hanging  and 
decorating  the  walls  with  an  appropriate  colour  scheme.  It 
had  occurred  to  nobody  before  him  that  beautiful  things 
should  be  shown  to  the  public  beautifully  and  it  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that  the  attention  given  to-day  to  the  artistic 
arrangement  of  picture  exhibitions  is  due  entirely  to  Whistler. 

1887  was  Queen  Victoria's  Jubilee  year,  and  every  Society 
of  artists  prepared  addresses  of  congratulation  to  her  Majesty, 
1887]  II  :e  65 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

AMiistler  could  not  permit  his  Society  to  appear  less  cere- 
moniously loyal  than  the  rest.  His  account  to  us  of  his 
conduct  at  this  official  moment  is  interesting  : 

"  ^VelI,  j^ou  know,  I  found  that  the  Academy  and  the  Institute 
and  the  rest  of  them  were  preparing  addresses  to  the  Queen,  and 
so  I  went  to  work  too,  and  I  prepared  a  most  wonderful  address. 
Instead  of  the  illuminated  performances  for  such  occasions,  I 
took    a    dozen    foho    sheets  of  my  old    Dutch    etching  paper. 
I  had   them   bound   by  Zaelinsdorf.     First,  came  the  beautiful 
binding  in  yeUow  morocco  and  the  inscription  to  Her  Majesty, 
every    word    just  in   the  right  place, — most   wonderful.      You 
opened  it,  and  on  the  first  page  you  found  a  beautiful  little 
dra'wing  of  the  royal  arms  that  I  had  made  myself ;   the  second 
page,  ■with   an  etching   of   Windsor,  as  though — '  there's  where 
you  hve  ! '     On  the   third   page,    the    address  began.     I   made 
decorations  aU  round  the  text  in  water-colour,  at  the  top  the 
towers  of  Windsor,  down  one  side  a  great   battleship   plunging 
through  the  waves,  and  below,  the   sun  that  never  sets   on  the 
British   Empire, — What  ? — The    following    pages  were  not   de- 
corated, just  the  most  wonderful  address,  explaining  the  age  and 
dignity  of  the  Societj',  its  devotion  to  Her  Glorious,  Gracious 
Majesty,  and  suggesting  the  honoiu'  it  would  be  if  this  could  be 
recognised  by  a  title  that  would  show  the  Society  to  belong  specially 
to  Her.     Then,   the  last  page  ;    you   turned,  and  there  was  a 
httle  etching  of  my  house  at  Chelsea — '  And  now,  here's  where  I 
live  ! '     And  then  you  closed  it,  and  at  the  back  of  the  cover  was 
the  Butterfly.     This  was  all  done  and  well  on  its  way,  and  not  a 
word  was  said  to  the  Society,  when  the  Committee  wrote  and 
asked  me  if  I  would  come  to  a  meeting  as  they  wished  to  consult 
me.     It  was  about  an  address  to  Her  Majesty — all  the  other 
Societies  were  sending  them — and  they  thought  they  should  too. 
I  asked  what  they  proposed  spending— they  were  aghast  when 
I  suggested  that  the  guinea  they  mentioned  might  not  meet  a 
twentieth  of  the  cost.     But,  aU  the  time,  my  beautiful  address 
was    on    its   way   to    Windsor,  and    finally    came   the    Queen's 
acknowledgment  and  command  that  the  Society  should  be  called 
Royal — I  carried  this  to  a  meeting  and  it  was  stormy.     One 
member  got  up  and  protested  against  one  thing  and  another, 
and  declared  his  intention  of  resigning.     '  You  had  better  make 
66  [1887 


THE    BRITISH    ARTISTS— THE    FALL 

a  note  of  it,  Mr.  Secretary,'  I  said.  And  then  I  got  up  with 
great  solemnity,  and  I  announced  the  honour  conferred  upon 
them  by  Her  Gracious  Majesty,  and  they  jumped  up  and  they 
rushed  towards  me  \^^th  outstretched  hands.  But  I  waved  them 
all  off,  and  I  continued  with  the  ceremonial  to  which  they  objected. 
For  the  ceremonial  was  one  of  their  grievances.  They  were 
accustomed  to  meet  in  shirt-sleeves — free-and-easy  fashion, 
which  I  would  not  stand.  Nor  would  I  consent  to  what  was  the 
Tvle  and  tradition  of  the  Society  :  I  would  not,  when  I  spoke, 
step  down  from  the  chair  and  stand  up  in  the  body  of  the  meeting, 
but  I  remained  always  where  I  was.  But,  the  meeting  over,  then 
I  sent  for  champagne." 

Whistler,  as  President  of  the  British  Artists,  was  invited  to 
the  Jubilee  ceremonies  in  Westminster  Abbey,  and  in  Mr. 
Lorimer's  painting  of  that  event  he  may  be  seen  on  one  side 
of  the  triforium,  with  Leighton  on  the  other.  He  was  asked 
also  to  the  State  garden-party  at  Buckingham  Palace,  and 
to  the  Naval  Review  off  Spithead,  when  he  made  the  Jubilee 
Series  of  etchings  and  at  least  one  water-colour. 

The  year  before,  Mr.  Ayerst  Ingram  had  proposed  that 
the  Society  should  give  a  show  of  the  President's  work  to 
precede  their  Summer  Exhibition  of  1887.  This  had  met  with 
so  many  objections  that,  though  the  motion  was  not  with- 
drawn as  Whistler  desired,  it  was  then  allowed  to  drop. 
After  the  new  honours  were  obtained  by  him  for  the  Society, 
and  while  he  was  travelling  in  Belgium  and  Holland,  an 
effort  was  made  by  the  few  who  were  his  friends  to  revive 
the  scheme.  Mr.  Ingram  did  what  he  could  ;  Mr.  Walter 
Dowdeswell  was  appointed  Honorary  Secretary ;  guarantors 
were  found,  and  the  financial  risk  feared  by  the  Society  thus 
disposed  of  ;  owners  of  pictures  were  written  to  ;  it  was  sug- 
gested that  the  show  should  be  held  in  February  and  March, 
1888.  But  Whistler,  doubting  the  sincerity  of  the  Society, 
would  not  run  the  risk  of  anything  less  than  an  "  absolute 
triumph  of  perfection "  for  an  undertaking  made  in  the 
1888]  67 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

name  of  the  British  artists,  or  his  own.  He  objected  to  the 
no  success  that  is  worse  than  faihire.  At  the  end  of  Sep- 
tember, nothing  definite  had  been  arranged,  and  Whistler 
told  Mr.  Ingram,  that  his  "  solitary  evidence  of  active  interest 
could  hardly  bring  about  a  result  sufficient  to  excuse  such  an 
eleventh  hour  effort." 

He  was  right.    The  opposition  in  the  Society  was  strong,  and 
many  members  were  now  in  open  warfare  with  the  President. 
They  refused  to  support  him  in  his  proposition  that  no  member 
of  the  Societj^  should  be,  or  should  remain,  a  member  of  any 
other  Society  ;  and  when  he  followed  this  with  the  proposition 
that  no  member  of  the  Royal  Society  of  British  Artists,  who 
was  a  member  of  any  other  Society,  should  serve  on  the  Select- 
ing or  Hanging  Committee,  they  again  defeated  him.     Nor  did 
they  persuade  him  to  reconsider  the  formal  withdrawal,  on 
November  18,  of    his  permission  to  show    his    works.      He 
sent,    however,   in   the   ordinary   way,    several   Watercolours 
and  the  twelve  etchings  of  the  Naval  Review  to  the  Winter 
Exhibition   (1887-88),   and   also  four   lithographs    from    the 
Notes  published  that  autumn  by  the  Goupils.     They  were 
described   by   the   Magazine   of   Art   (December    1887),    as 
mere  "'Notes'  reproduced  in  marvellous  facsimile,"  which 
gave  Whistler  his  chance  for  another  courteous  reminder  in 
the  World  to  "  the  bewildered  one."     The  critic  might  inquire, 
he  suggested  :    "  the  safe  and  well-conducted  one  informs 
himself."     Within  the  Society,  he  had  once  more  to  contend 
against  the  objections  to  his  hanging  and  spacing,   and  a 
fresh  grievance  this  winter  was  that  some  of  the  now  limited 
space  was  filled  with  the  work  of  Monet,  as  yet  hardly  known 
in  England.     Few  agreed  with  one  of  the  older  members, 
who,  when  he  looked  at  Whistler's  Red  Note,  declared,  "  If 
he  can  do  that,  I'll  forgive  him — he  can  do  anything."     The 
general  opinion  was  that  "  ^Vhistler  would  have  his  way,  and 
didn't  mind  if  he  made  enemies  in  getting  it,"  and  it  began  to 
68  [1888 


THE    BRITISH    A  R  T  I  S  T  S— T  II  E    FALL 

be  whispered  that  even  in  the  matter  of  the  memorial,  he  had 
been  dictatorial.     The  situation  is  best  described  in  the  words 
of  Mr.  Holmes  to  us  :    "  With  a  little  more  of  Disraeli  and  a 
little  less  of  Oliver  Cromwell,  Whistler  would  have  triumphed." 
The  crisis  came  in  April  1888,  just  before  the  Summer  Ex- 
hibition.    It  was   suggested  that  the   Council   be   asked  to 
communicate  with  the  President  as  to  the  removal  of  temporary 
decorations  which  he  had  designed  and  they  had  paid  for. 
Whistler  was  indignant.     He  had  worked  over  the  affairs  of 
the  Society  as  though  they  were  his  own  ;   he  had  used  every 
endeavour  to  restore  its  fortunes  and  give  its  shows  distinction. 
In  return,  members  only  hindered  him.     It  was  not  his  habit 
to  draw  a  veil  of  reserve  over  his  indignation,  and  he  ex- 
pressed it  vigorously.     One  decoration  the  Society  did  not 
object  to  was  a  velarium,  since  it  meant  no  loss  of  wall  space, 
and,  when  WTiistler  removed  his,  they  ordered  a  new  one. 
Whistler,  through  his  Secretary,  explained  to  the  Committee 
that  the  velarium  was  his  patent — "  a  patent  taken  out  by 
the  Greeks  and  Romans,"  is  Mr.  Ingram's  comment.     We 
have  been  told  by  a  British  Artist  that  Whistler  got  out  an 
injunction,  that  when  the  Committee,  with  their  order  for 
tiie  velarium,  hurried   to    Hampton's,  his  Secretary  was   at 
their    heels    in    a    hansom  with    the   injunction,   that    they 
arrived    at    Liberty's   together,    but    that,    somehow,    they 
managed  in  the  end  to  evade  him.     A  velarium  was  made  and 
put  up,  and  they  at  once  proceeded  to  get  rid  of  their  Presi- 
dent.    At   a  meeting  on  May  7,  a    letter    signed    by    eight 
members,  whose  names  do  not  appear  in  the  Minutes,  was 
read,  asking  the  President  to  call  a  meeting  to  request  Mr. 
James  A.  McNeill  Whistler  to  resign  his  membership  in  the 
Society,  and  Whistler,  as  President,  called  the  meeting  and 
signed  the  Minutes.     One  of  the  eight  has  told  us  that  he  en- 
dorsed the  letter  because  he  knew  what  was  sure  to  follow,  and 
he  wanted  to  spare  Whistler  a  worse  unpleasantness.     The 
1888]  69 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

President  made  a  speech,  in  which  he  claimed  that  his  action, 
in  the  matter  of  the  velarium,  was  not  inimical  to  the  welfare  of 
the  Society,  but  the  speech  was  not  recorded.  He  permitted 
no  one  else  to  speak  in  opposition,  and  the  subject  was  dropped. 
At  the  Sjjccial  Meeting  called  by  him  the  same  month, 
there  was  a  more  exhaustive  discussion.  Whistler  declared 
liis  position.  His  opponents  presented  an  array  of  lawyers' 
letters,  which,  they  said,  showed  that  Whistler  had  threatened 
injunctions,  had  greatly  impeded  the  Executive  in  the 
decoration  of  the  galleries,  and  had  influenced  many  dis- 
tinguished people  to  keep  away  from  the  private  view.  A 
vote  was  taken,  virtually  for  his  expulsion,  though  Mr, 
Ingram  proposed,  in  its  place,  a  vote  of  censure.  Whistler 
refused  at  first  to  put  the  motion  to  expel  himself,  but, 
finally,  was  compelled  to  do  so.  There  were  eighteen  votes 
for,  nineteen  against  it,  and  nine  members  did  not  vote. 
The  votes.  Whistler  said,  when  he  addressed  the  meeting  after 
the  ballot,  showed  that  the  Society  approved  of  his  action. 
Mr.  Francis  James  at  once  proposed  a  vote  of  censure  on  those 
gentlemen  who  had  signed  the  letter,  but  this  was  not  passed, 
for  the  feeling  against  Whistler  was,  after  all,  very  strong. 
On  June  4,  at  the  annual  election,  when  a  whip  had 
been  sent  round  to  old  members,  Wyke  Bayliss  was  elected 
President  in  his  place  and  Whistler  tendered  his  resignation 
as  member,  congratulating  the  Society  on  the  election  : 

"  Now,  at  last,  you  must  be  satisfied.     You  can  no  longer  say 
you  have  the  right  man  in  the  wrong  place  !  " 

Mr.  Sidney  Starr  recalls  his  saying  also  : 

"  Now  I  understand  the  feelings  of  all  those  who,  since  the 
world  began,  have  tried  to  save  their  fellow  men." 

Almost  all  the  minority  resigned.  Indeed,  one  member, 
Mr,  Menpes,  foreseeing  the  inevitable,  had  resigned  a  month 
earlier,  a  fact  which  led  to  Whistler's  comment  on  "  the  early 
70  [1888 


I 


THE    BRITISH    A  R  T  I  S  T  S— T  H  E    FALL 

rat  who  leaves  the  sinking  ship."  Keene,  Alfred  Stevens, 
Theodore  Roussel,  all  the  more  brilliant  of  the  younger  men, 
who  had  joined  the  Society  with  him,  left  it  with  him,  so  that 
he  said  afterwards,  "  the  Artists  have  come  out,  and  the 
British  remain." 

Mr.  Menpes  describes  a  supper  of  the  "  Artists,"  after  the 
meeting,  at  the  Hogarth  Club,  Whistler  in  high  spirits, 
swinging  a  toy  policeman's  rattle  to  the  measure  of  "  Yankee 
Doodle."  Menpes  was  taken  back  into  favour,  and  joined 
the  party.  "  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  them  all  ?  " 
he  asked  Whistler.  "  Lose  them,"  said  Whistler.  But  he 
did  not  lose  them  all,  and  a  few  of  his  faithful  supporters 
pride  themselves  on  his  friendship  to  the  end. 

According  to  the  rules.  Whistler  was  active  President  until 
December,  and  until  December  he  retained  his  post.  He 
was  away  in  the  summer  of  1888,  but  he  presided  at  a 
meeting  on  November  11,  and  again  on  the  28th,  when  he 
made  a  statement  of  his  relations  with  the  Society  and  his 
objects  and  aims  concerning  it.  After  this,  he  gave  up  the 
chair  to  Mr.  Bayliss.  He  had  been  President  for  two  years, 
and  a  member  for  four.  After  November  28,  1888,  his  name 
appears  in  the  official  records  only  on  two  occasions :  first, 
on  January  4,  1889,  in  connection  with  a  dispute  over 
the  notice  board  outside  the  gallery ;  and  then  on  July  20, 
1903,  when  Wyke  Bayliss  stated  "  that,  acting  on  the  feeling 
that  it  would  be  the  wish  of  the  Society,  he  had  ordered  a 
wreath  to  be  sent  in  the  name  of  the  Society  on  the  occasion 
of  the  funeral  of  Mr.  Whistler." 

The  papers  were  not  so  shy  of  the  President's  name  as  the 
Minute  Books.  The  differences  between  him  and  the  Society 
found  the  publicity  which  Whistler  could  never  escape.  He 
said  to  the  men  who  resigned  with  him,  "  Come  and  make 
history  for  posterity,"  and,  in  his  usual  fashion,  he  saw  that 
the  record  was^accurate.  He  had  hardly  left  the  Society 
1888]  ^  71 


JAMES    McXEILL    WHISTLER 

when  the  notice  board,  with  the  Butterfly  and  the  hon  which 
he  had  repainted,  was  altered  ;  he  immediately  Avrote  a 
letter  to  state  the  fact  in  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette.  Pieporters 
and  interviewers  gave  the  British  Artists'  reasons  for  their 
late  President's  resignation  and  the  qualifications  for  the  post 
of  liis  successor  ;  AMiistler  lost  no  time  in  explaining  his  own 
position  and  his  estimate  of  the  new  President.  It  cannot 
be  said  too  often  that  his  letters  to  the  press,  criticised  as 
trivial  and  undignified,  were  written  deliberately  that  his 
oAvn  version  of  "  history  "  might  "  go  down."  Many  pages  of 
The  Gentle  Art  are  filled  with  the  details  of  his  relations  with 
the  British  Artists.  The  gaiety  of  his  letters  was  mistaken 
for  flippancy,  because  the  more  solemn  and  ponderous  his 
"  enemies  "  became,  the  more  "  joyous  "  he  invariably  grew 
in  disposing  of  them.  He  did  not  spare  the  British  Artists. 
The  Pall  Mall  undertook  to  describe  the  disaster  of  the 
."  ^Miistlerian  jDolicy  "  in  Suffolk  Street  by  Statistics  and  to 
extol  the  strength  of  Wyke  Bayliss : 

■■  The  sales  of  the  Society  during  the  year  1881  were  under  five 
thousand  pounds  ;  1882,  under  six  thousand  ;  1883,  under  seven 
thousand  ;  1884,  under  eight  thousand ;  1885  (the  first  year  of 
Mr.  \\TiistIer"s  rule),  they  fell  to  imder  four  thousand  ;  1886, 
under  three  thousand  ;  1887,  under  two  thousand  ;  and,  the 
present  year,  1888,  under  one  thousand.  .  .  .  The  new  President 
.  .  .  is  .  .  .  the  hero  of  three  Bond  Street  '  one-man  exhibi- 
tions,' a  Board-school  chairman,  a  lecturer,  champion  chess- 
player of  Surrej-,  a  member  of  the  Rochester  Diocesan  Council, 
a  Shakespearian  student,  a  Fello^\-  of  the  Society  of  Cyclists, 
a  FeUow  of  the  Societj'  of  Antiquarians,  and  public  orator  of 
Noviomagus." 

Whistler's  answer  was  characteristic,  serious  in  intention, 
light  on  the  surface.     It  pointed  out 

"  the,   for  once,  not   unamusing   '  fact '  that  the  disastrous  and 
simple  Painter  Wliistler  only  took  in  hand  the  reins  of  govern- 
ment at  least  a  j-ear  after  the  former  driver  had  been  pitched 
72  [1888 


NdCTIUXE,    liAl'TKIISKA 
(  l.ilhiliiil) 


I.UIKIIOLSE 

U-illiuliul) 


THE    BRITISH    ARTIST  S— T  HE    FALL 

from  his  box,  and  half  the  money-bags  had  been  already  lost ! — 
from  eight  thousand  to  four  thousand  at  one  fatal  swoop  !  and 
the  beginning  of  the  end  liad  set  in  !  ....  '  Four  thousand 
pounds ! '  down  it  went — three  thousand  pounds — two  thousand 
pounds — the  figures  are  Wyke's — and  this  season,  the  ignominious 
'  one  thousand  pounds  or  under,'  is  none  of  my  booking  !  and 
when  last  I  s&w  the  mad  machine  it  was  still  cycling  down  the 
hill." 

Whistler  was  disappointed  if  he  did  not  show  it.  He 
joined  the  Society  because  he  thought  it  an  honour  to  have 
been  invited.  He  was  seldom  invited  to  join  anything,  but, 
for  that  reason,  he  did  not  rush  to  accept  the  rare  invita- 
tion. He  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  Art  Congress 
started  in  the  'eighties,  despite  an  effort  to  entangle  him ;  nor 
would  he  do  more  than  give  his  "  benison,"  Mr.  Walter  Crane 
says,  to  the  movement  in  1886  to  organise  a  National  Art 
Exhibition,  led  by  Mr.  Crane,  Mr.  Holman  Hunt,  and  Mr. 
George  Clausen.  But  the  age  and  traditions  of  the  British 
Artists  gave  the  Society  dignity  in  his  eyes.  He  who  was 
called  the  most  selfish  of  men  would  make  any  sacrifice  for 
art,  and,  at  the  price  of  his  time  and  energy,  during  his  four 
years  in  Suffolk  Street,  he  dragged  the  Society  out  of  the 
slough  in  which  it  was  floundering  and  made  its  exhibitions 
the  most  distinguished  and  most  talked-about  in  London. 
Wyke  Bayliss,  who  never  understood  him,  wrote  in  Olives  : 

"  Whistler's  purpose  was  to  make  the  British  Artists  a  small, 
esoteric  set,  mine  was  to  make  it  a  great  guild  of  the  working 
artists  of  this  country." 

But  Whistler  said  : 

"  I  wanted  to  make  the  British  Artists  an  art  centre,  they 
wanted  to  remain  a  shop." 

If  his  word  were  not  evidence  enough,  his  earnestness  in 
the  policy  he  advocated  would  be  proved  by  his  adherence  to 
it.  Ten  years  later,  as  President  of  the  International  Society 
1SS83  73 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

of  Sculptors,  Painters  and  Gravers,  he  not  only  recona- 
mended  but  enforced  the  same  measures  :  the  decoration 
of  the  galleries,  the  refusal  of  bad  work  no  matter  who 
sent  it,  the  proper  hanging  of  the  pictures  accepted,  the 
making  of  the  exhibitions  into  real  artistic  events,  the 
interesting  of  the  public  in  them,  the  insistence  that  each 
artist  should  support  his  own  Society's  exhibitions  only 
and  should  not  be  a  member  of  any  other  Society.  He 
may  have  been  dictatorial,  but  without  a  leader  nothing  can 
be  accomplished  and  at  the  British  Artists'  each  British 
Artist  wanted  to  lead.  His  Presidency  began  in  mistrust 
and  ended,  as  was  inevitable,  in  discord  and  disappointment. 
For  Whistler  it  had  an  indirect  advantage  in  that  the  public, 
especially  abroad — out  of  respect  for  the  ancient  institution 
he  presided  over — regarded  him  and  his  work  henceforth 
with  greater  deference. 


74  [1888 


CHAPTER  XXXI.    MARRIAGE.     THE  YEAR 
EIGHTEEN  EIGHTY-EIGHT 

BEFORE  Whistler  left  the  British  Artists  he  married 
Beatrix  Godwin,  widow  of  E.  W.  Godwin,  the  architect 
of  the  White  House,  and  for  years  Whistler's  strongest 
defender  in  the  press.  Godwin  died  October  6,  1886,  and 
Whistler  married  on  August  11,  1888. 

Mrs.  Whistler  was  the  daughter  of  John  Birnie  Philip,  now 
remembered  as  one  of  the  sculptors  who  worked  on  the  Albert 
Memorial.  She  was  large,  so  that  Whistler  looked  almost 
dwarfed  beside  her,  dark  and  handsome,  more  foreign  in 
appearance  than  English.  Whistler  delighted  in  a  tradition 
that  there  was  gypsy  blood  in  her  family.  She  had  studied 
art  in  Paris,  and  he  was  proud  of  her  as  a  talented  pupil.  Her 
work  included  several  decorative  designs  and  a  series  of 
etched  plates,  made  to  illustrate  the  English  edition  of  Van 
Eeden's  Little  Johannes,  a  fantastic  tale  of  an  elfen  world  full 
of  strange  beings.  Only  a  few  of  the  plates  were  finished,  and 
of  these  some  proofs  were  shown  in  the  first  exhibition  of  the 
International  Society,  and  in  the  Paris  Memorial  Exhibition. 
Mr.  Labouchere  holds  himself  responsible  for  the  marriage, 
and  told  the  story  of  how  it  came  about  in  Truth  (July  23, 
1903) : 

"  I  believe  that  I  am  responsible  for  his  marriage  to  the 
widow  of  Mr.  Godwin,  the  architect.  She  was  a  remarkably 
pretty  woman,  and  very  agreeable,  and  both  she  and  he  were 
thorough  Bohemians.  I  was  dining  with  them  and  some  others 
one  evening  at  Earl's  Court.  They  were  obviously  greatly 
attracted  to  each  other,  and  in  a  vague  sort  of  way  they  thought 
1888]  J75 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

of  marrying.  So  I  took  the  matter  in  hand  to  bring  things  to  a 
practical  point.  '  Jemmy,'  I  said, '  vriU  you  marry  Mrs.  Godwin  ? ' 
— '  Certainly,'  he  rephed. — '  Mrs.  Godwin,'  I  said,  '  wiU  you 
marry  Jemmy  ?  ' — '  Certainly,'  she  replied. — '  When  ?  '  I  asked. — 
■  Oh,  some  day,'  said  Whistler. — '  That  won't  do,'  I  said  ;  '  we 
must  have  a  date.'  So  they  both  agreed  that  I  should  choose 
the  day,  what  church  to  come  to  for  the  ceremonj',  provide  the 
clergyman,  and  give  the  bride  awaj'.  I  fixed  an  early  date,  and 
got  the  then  Chaplain  of  the  House  of  Commons  [the  Rev.  Mr. 
Byng]  to  perform  the  ceremony.  It  took  place  a  few  days 
later. 

"  After  the  ceremony  was  over,  \^e  adjourned  to  AVliistler's 
studio,  where  he  had  prepared  a  banquet.  The  banquet  was  on 
the  table,  but  there  were  no  chairs.  So  we  sat  on  iDacking-cases, 
The  happy  pair,  when  I  left,  had  not  quite  decided  whether  they 
would  go  that  evening  to  Paris,  or  remain  in  the  studio.  How 
unpractical  they  were  was  shown  when  I  happened  to  meet  the 
bride  the  day  before  the  marriage  in  the  street : 

"  '  Don't  forget  to-morrow,'  I  said. — '  No,'  she  replied,  '  I  am 
just  going  to  buy  my  trousseau.' — '  A  httle  late  for  that,  is  it  not  ?  ' 
I  asked. — '  No,'  she  answered,  '  for  I  am  only  going  to  buy  a  new 
toothbrush  and  a  new  sponge,  as  one  ought  to  have  new  ones  when 


The  "A'edding  took  place  at  St.  Mary  Abbott's,  Kensington, 
in  the  presence  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  \^Tiistler,  one  of  Mrs.  Godwin's 
sisters  and  three  or  four  friends.  jMr.  Labouchere  gave  the 
bride  away  and  3Ir.  Jopling-Rowe  was  best  man.  Whistler 
had  recently  left  45-t  Fulhani  Road  and  the  Vale,  with  its 
memories  of  "  Maud,"  who  was  at  that  time  in  Paris,  for  the 
Tower  House,  Tite  Street,  and  the  suddenness  of  his  marriage 
gave  no  time  to  put  things  in  order.  There  were  not  only 
packing-cases  in  the  dining-room — usually  one  of  the  first 
rooms  furnished  in  every  house  he  moved  into — but  the 
household  was  in  most  other  respects  unprepared  for  the 
reception  of  a  bride.  The  wedding  breakfast  was  ordered 
from  the  Cafe  Roj-al,  and  the  bride's  sister  hurriedly  got  a 
weddmg  cake  from  Buszards. 
76  [ISS8 


I 


r 


74   (IlKWK    WALK.   (   IIKf.SKA 


iwKi:  iiipusK.  rnK  ^tkkkt,  cm;!. ska 


•Jl    (IIEYXIO   WALK,  (  IIKI.SHA 


MARRIAGE 

The  rest  of  the  summer  and  autumn  was  spent  in  France, 
part  of  the  time  in  Boulogne.     Mr,  and  Mrs.  Cole 

"  met  Jimmy  and  his  wife  on  the  sands  ;  they  came  up  with  us 
to  Rue  de  la  Paix — down  to  bathe — Jimmy  sketching  on  sands  ; 
the  W.s  turned  up  after  luncli.  With  Jimmy  to  the  iron  and 
rag  marcM  near  Boulevard  Prince  Albert  [no  doubt  in  search  of 
old  paper  as  well  as  of  subjects] — he  sketched  (water-colours)  a 
dingy  shop.  Later  we  dined  with  them  at  tlie  Casino— Pleasant 
Tparti  <X  quatre — Jimmy  in  excellent  form.     Leaving  to-morrow." 

From  Boulogne  they  went  on  to  Touraine,  stopping  on  the 
way  at  Chartres,  most  of  the  time  lost  to  their  friends  as  they 
intended  to  be  lost.  It  was  Whistler's  first  real  holiday.  He 
was  taking  it  lazily,  he  wrote  home,  in  straw  hat  and  white 
shoes,  rejoicing  in  the  grapes  and  melons,  getting  the  pleasure 
out  of  it  that  France  always  gave  him.  But  he  got  more  than 
pleasure.  He  brought  back  to  London  about  thirty  beautiful 
little  plates  of  Tours  and  Loches  and  Bourges,  and  settled 
down  in  London  to  wind  up  his  connection  with  the  British 
Artists. 

Whistler  was  devoted  to  his  wife  who,  henceforth,  occupied 
a  far  more  prominent  position  in  his  life  than  his  friends 
could  have  anticipated.  Indeed,  the  course  of  his  life  was 
entirely  changed  by  his  marriage.  He  saw  little  of  his  former 
friends  in  London,  and  less  even  of  society.  For  months  he 
was  a  wanderer,  and  these  months  were  barren  of  important 
work.  Not  that  Mrs.  Whistler  was  indifferent  to  his  art  or 
stood  in  its  way.  She  was  sj^mpathetic,  helpful,  interested, 
and  intelligent.  He  liked  to  have  her  in  the  studio  with  him ; 
when  she  could  not  come,  he  brought  the  pictures  he  was 
painting  home  for  her  to  see.  He  worked  consciously  with 
her  critical  eye  upon  him.  He  consulted  her  in  his  diffi- 
culties, he  looked  to  her  to  rejoice  with  him  in  his  triumphs, 
and  she  shared  only  too  willingly  the  disappointment  in- 
1888]  77 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

evitable  in  the  career  of  the  creative  artist.  But  it  cannot 
be  denied  that  for  him  the  period  of  great  schemes  and  their 
successful  completion  came  to  an  end  with  his  marriage. 
Although  in  later  years  he  produced  pictures  exquisite  in 
their  accomplishment,  we  look  in  vain  for  large  canvases  like 
The  Mother  and  Carlyle,  the  Sarasate  and  Lady  Meux.  This 
was  no  doubt  the  result  partly  of  his  pleasure  in  his  new 
domestic  conditions,  and  partly  of  circumstances  that  pre- 
vented him  from  remaining  long  enough  in  any  one  place  for 
continuous  work  to  be  possible.  An  artist  must  be  able  to 
devote  himself  without  interruption  to  his  great  schemes,  or 
else  must  have  a  very  different  temperament  from  Whistler's. 
After  a  year  or  so  in  London  and  two  or  three  happy  years 
in  Paris  which  Mrs.  Whistler  always  said  she  did  not  deserve, 
her  health  necessitated  wandering  again. 

Commissions  at  last  began  to  come  to  Whistler  as  they 
never  had  before,  and  his  new  interests  and  eventually  the 
care  and  sorrow  of  Mrs.  Whistler's  fatal  illness  left  him  neither 
the  time  nor  the  freedom  for  them.     As  he  said  to  us  one  day  : 

"  Now,  they  want  these  things — why  didn't  they  want  them 
twenty  years  ago,  when  I  wanted  to  do  them,  and  could  have 
done  them  ? — and  they  were  just  as  good  twenty  years  ago  as 
they  are  now." 

Few  of  the  large  portraits  begun  during  these  years  were 
completed.  And  even  after  his  wife's  death,  he  struggled 
in  vain  to  return  to  the  old  conditions  and  regain  with  them 
the  power  of  uninterrupted  application  to  which  the  world 
owes  his  greatest  masterpieces.  It  is  true  that  his  work 
never  deteriorated,  that,  as  he  said  himself,  he  brought  it 
ever  nearer  to  the  perfection  which  alone  could  satisfy  him. 
He  never  produced  anything  finer  than  The  Master  Smith 
and  The  Little  Rose  of  Lyme  Regis  painted  toward  the  end  of 
his  married  life,  or  His  Reverence  and  the  series  of  children's 
heads  of  his  last  years.  But  these  were  planned  on  a  smaller 
78  [1888 


MARRIAGE 

scale  and  required  less  continuity  of  effort  than  the  large 
full-lengths  and  the  decorative  designs  he  longed  to  execute 
but  was  never  able  to  finish,  sometimes  not  even  to  begin. 
As  will  be  seen  later  on.  Whistler,  with  advancing  years, 
became  more  and  more  sure  of  himself,  more  and  more  the 
master  of  his  materials  but  circumstances  forced  him  to  find 
his  pleasure  and  exercise  his  greater  knowledge  in  the  pro- 
duction of  smaller  work. 


1888]  79 


CHAPTER  XXXII.  WORK.  THE  YEARS 
EIGHTEEN  EIGHTY-FOUR  TO  EIGHTEEN 
NINETY 

THE  years  of  the  Ten  o' Clock  and  the  British  Artists  and  the 
first  one  or  two  of  Whistler's  married  life  were  very 
prolific,  though  comparatively  few  important  pictures  belong 
to  them.  He  devoted  more  time  than  ever  to  water-colour  and 
pastel,  to  etching  and  lithography.  He  was  continually 
going  and  coming,  making  little  journeys  in  England  or  on 
the  Continent,  especially  in  Belgium  and  Holland,  and  he 
had  boxes  and  bags  with  compartments  and  arrangements 
for  his  colours,  his  plates,  his  lithographic  materials.  These 
he  took  with  him  everj^here,  and  it  is  impossible  to  say — he 
did  not  know  himself — the  exact  number  of  small  works  in 
oU,  water-colour  and  pastel  that  he  produced  during  these 
years. 

He  had  always  used  the  medium  of  water-colour  since  his 
schooldays,  but,  until  he  went  to  Venice,  not  to  any  extent. 
Some  of  the  Venetian  drawings  show  that  he  then  was  not 
really  master  of  it.  But  as  soon  as  he  took  it  up  seriously, 
the  results  he  got,  both  in  figure  and  landscape,  were  admirable. 
He  touched  perfection  in  many  a  little  angry  sea  at  Dieppe, 
or  note  in  Holland,  or  impression  in  Paris,  but  as  not  many 
are  dated,  we  cannot  learn  from  them  when  he  reached  the 
mastery  in  the  art  of  water-colour  painting  which  they  reveal. 
He  probably  would  not  have  been  sure  of  the  dates  himself. 
We  have  gone  through  drawers  in  his  studio  with  him,  when 
he  expressed  the  utmost  surprise  on  finding  certain  things,  as 
80  [1884-90 


'J'lIE   IJEACH 
{Il'uter-C'oiour) 


i 


WORK 

he  had  forgotten  them  and  also  when  and  where  they  were 
painted  or  drawn.  He  suffered  from  the  confusion  and 
reahsed  the  importance  of  making  a  complete  list  of  his 
works,  with  their  dates,  and  there  were  various  projects  and 
commencements.  After  several  attempts,  he  found  it  took 
too  much  of  his  time.  We  know  that  he  asked  Mr.  Freer  to 
trace,  for  this  purpose,  his  pictures  in  America,  and  Mr.  D. 
Croal  Thomson  to  do  him  the  same  service  in  England. 

There  is  no  such  difficulty  with  the  etchings,  and  probably 
the  great  Grolier  Club  Catalogue,  which  is  announced  for 
publication,  will  clear  up  all  remaining  doubts.  Between 
Whistler's  return  from  Venice,  in  1880,  and  his  going  to 
Paris  in  1892,  thei'c  is  already  the  record  of  ninety  plates 
in  England.  They  begin  with  the  Regent's  Quadrant,  which 
we  know  was  done  almost  at  once,  while  he  was  living  in  Air 
Street,  and  of  which  a  signed  proof  once  was  brought  to  us  by 
his  landlady,  who  called  it  an  original  drawing,  and  said  it 
had  been  made  out  of  her  window.  Then  follow  plates  of 
little  shops  in  Chelsea,  Gray's  Inn,  Westminster,  the  Wild  West 
at  Earl's  Court,  Whitechapel,  Sandwich,  the  Jubilee  in  the 
Abbey  and  many  figure-subjects.  There  is  also  the  Swan  and 
Iris,  the  copy  of  an  unfinished  picture  by  Cecil  Lawson,  for 
Mr.  Edmund  Gosse's  Memoir  of  the  painter  (1883).  It  was  the 
only  plate,  since  those  published  by  the  Junior  Etching  Club, 
which  he  made  as  an  illustration.  La  Marchande  de  Moutarde, 
in  its  second  state,  was  issued  in  English  Etchings  (1888) 
and  Billingsgate  in  the  Portfolio  (1878),  but  they  had  been 
etched  long  before,  with  no  idea  of  illustration  or  publication 
in  book  or  magazine. 

The  London  plates  are  mostly  simple  in  subject,  and  they 
have  been  therefore  frequently  dismissed  as  unimportant. 
But  many  are  most  delightfully  composed,  while  the  detail 
in  the  little  figures  is  full  of  observation.  The  subjects 
show  that  they  were  rapidly  done.  Whistler,  carrying  the 
1884-90]  II  :f  8i 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

small  plates  about  with  him,  sketched  the  subjects  he 
found  on  copper  as  other  artists  sketch  on  paper.  Three 
were  made  at  Buffalo  Bill's  Wild  West  probably  in  an  after- 
noon ;  one  in  Westminster  Abbey,  during  Queen  Victoria's 
Jubilee  (1887)  celebration  ;  and  the  whole  set  of  ten  during 
the  Naval  Review,  with  a  plate  at  Tilbury,  on  his  embarking, 
and  another  at  Portsmouth  on  landing.  The  prints  of  this 
Series,  as  we  know  the  exact  space  of  time  in  which  they  were 
done,  prove  strikingly  his  wonderful  power  of  giving  a 
momentary  impression  in  a  few  lines  on  a  piece  of  copper,  for 
they  suggest,  in  extraordinary  fashion,  the  picturesque  aspect 
of  the  great  naval  spectacle. 

In  the  autumn  of  1887  he  went  to  Belgium  with  Dr.  and 
]\Irs.  William  Whistler,  stopping  at  Brussels,  Ostend,  and 
Bruges.  In  Brussels  he  etched  the  Grande  Place,  the  Town 
Hall,  the  palaces,  the  little  shops  and  streets  and  courts,  with 
the  intention,  never  fulfiUed,  of  issuing  them  as  another  Set. 
M.  Octave  Maus,  who  knew  him,  says, 

"  he  was  enchanted  there  with  the  picturesque  and  disreputable 
quarter  of  les  MaroUes  in  the  old  town.  He  was  frequently  to  be 
met  in  the  alleys  which  pour  a  squahd  populace  into  the  old  High 
Street,  engaged  in  scratching  on  the  copper  his  impressions  of 
the  swarming  hfe  around  him.  When  the  inquisitive  throng 
pressed  him  too  hard,  the  artist  merely  pointed  his  graver  at  the 
arm,  or  neck,  or  cheek  of  one  of  the  intruders.  The  threatening 
weapon,  with  his  sharp,  spiteful  laugh,  put  them  at  once  to 
flight." 

Sometimes,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Whistler  found  him,  safe  out  of  the 
way  of  the  crowd,  in  the  bandstand  of  the  Grande  Place, 
where  three  of  the  most  beautiful  of  the  series  were  done. 
These  studies  mark  another  development  in  his  technique. 
With  the  fewest,  the  most  dehcate,  lines  he  expressed  the 
most  complicated  and  the  most  picturesque  architecture. 
They  were  probably  bitten  with  very  little  stopping-out,  and 
82  [1884.-90 


WORK 

they  are  printed  with  a  sharpness  that  shows,  and  does  not 
conceal,  their  wonderful  drawing.  M.  Duret  has  said  to  us 
that,  in  them.  Whistler  has  given  the  bones,  the  skeleton,  of 
the  architecture.  As  was  the  case  with  all  the  plates  of  these 
years,  except  the  Dutch,  few  proofs  were  ever  pulled. 

The  etchings  in  Touraine,  to  group  the  plates  of  the  summer 
of  1888  together,  though  they  were  not  all  done  in  Touraine, 
have  never  been  published  as  a  Set.  They  include  plates 
made  at  Tours,  Loches,  Voves,  Bourges,  Amboise,  and  Blois, 
and  two  or  three  views  of  chateaux  it  is  difficult  to  identify. 
As  in  Belgium,  again  great  architecture  gave  him  his  principal 
subjects,  and  again  his  simplicity  of  treatment  shows  that  if, 
as  a  rule,  he  refrained  from  the  rendering  of  architecture,  it 
was  from  no  desire  of  evading  difficulties  of  drawing,  as  his 
critics  have  been  over-ready  to  suggest.  The  line  is  stronger, 
and  the  biting  much  more  powerful,  tnan  in  the  Belgian 
plates. 

The  year  after  his  marriage  and  the  summer  in  Touraine, 
he  went  to  Holland,  where  he  made  seventeen  plates  in  and 
around  Dordrecht  and  Amsterdam,  producing  the  wonderful 
Nocturne:  Dance  House,  The  Embroidered  Curtain,  The 
Balcony,  the  Zaandam  in  which  he  surpassed  Rembrandt 
in  Rembrandt's  own  subjects.  His  success  is  the  more 
surprising  because  scarcely  anywhere  does  the  artist  work 
under  such  difficulties  as  in  Holland.  The  little  Dutch 
boys  are  the  worst  in  the  world,  and  the  grown  people  can  be 
as  bad.  In  Amsterdam,  the  women  in  the  houses  on  one  of 
the  canals,  where  Whistler  sat  in  a  boat  working,  objected, 
and  emptied  basins  of  water  out  of  the  windows  above  him. 
He  only  managed  to  dodge  them  just  in  time,  and  he  had  to 
call  on  the  police,  when,  he  told  us,  the  next  interrujition  was 
a  big  row  above  him,  and 

"  I  looked  up,  dodging  the  filthy  pails  to  see  the  women  vanish- 
ing backward   being  carried  oflE  to  wherever  they  carry  people 
188i-90j  83 


JAMES  McNeill   whistler 

in  Holland.    After  that,  I  had  no  more  trouble,  but  I  always  had 
a  policeman  whenever  I  had  a  boat." 

In  the  Dutch  plates  he  returned  more  to  the  methods 
perfected  at  Venice  in  The  Traghetto  and  The  Beggars.  After 
he  brought  the  work  back  to  London,  he  was  interviewed  on 
the  subject  for  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette  (March  i,  1890),  and  is 
reported  to  have  said  : 

"  First  you  see  me  at  work  on  the  Thames  (producing  one  of 
the  famous  series).  Now,  there  you  see  the  crude  and  hard  detail 
of  the  beginner.  So  far,  so  good.  There,  you  see,  all  is  sacrificed 
to  exactitude  of  outline.  Presently,  and  almost  unconsciously,  I 
begin  to  criticise  myself,  and  to  feel  the  craving  of  the  artist  for 
form  and  colour.  The  result  was  the  second  stage,  which  my 
enemies  call  inchoate,  and  I  call  Impressionism.  The  third  stage 
I  have  shown  you.  In  that  I  have  endeavoured  to  combine 
stages  one  and  two.  You  have  the  elaboration  of  the  first  stage, 
and  the  quality  of  the  second." 

Though  we  hesitate  to  accept  the  words  throughout  as  his, 
this  is  still  an  interesting  statement  inspired  by  him  of  his 
development  as  an  etcher,  and  a  suggestive  description  of  his 
aims  in  the  Dutch  series.  For  you  find  in  some  of  the  plates 
more  detail  than  he  gave  in  the  Venetian,  and  yet  form  is 
expressed  not  in  the  outline  of  the  London  prints,  but  in  the 
broken  line  of  the  work  that  followed,  and  you  see,  as  you 
really  would  in  looking  at  Nature,  the  effect  of  a  landscape, 
or  a  house,  as  a  whole  and  not  in  its  intricate  and  subordinate 
parts.  You  see  it  also  with  a  richness  of  colour  that  etchers 
have  seldom  obtained  without  a  mass  of  cross-hatching  that 
takes  away  from  the  spontaneity  and  freshness  of  the  im- 
pression. It  is  curious  to  contrast  the  distant  views  of  the 
town  of  Amsterdam  and  the  windmills  of  Zaandam  with 
Rembrandt's  etchings  of  similar  subjects,  and  to  note  the 
greater  feeling  of  space  and  distance  that  Whistler  gives  by 
his  simplification  of  the  foreground  and  his  sacrifice  of  certain 
84  [1 884-90 


I 


THE  FUR  JACKET 

AnaiiBemenl  in  BJacli  and  Brown 


WORK 

facts,  so  that  he  might  render  on  his  copper  the  appearance, 
the  aspect,  which  the  actual  scene  presented  to  his  eyes.  The 
work  is  more  elaborate  and  delicate  than  in  any  previous  plates, 
so  delicate  sometimes  that  it  seems  underbitten.  But  the 
method  necessitated  this.  He  drew  with  such  minuteness 
that  hardly  anj'^  of  the  ground,  the  varnish,  is  left  on  the  plates, 
and  when  he  bit  them,  he  could  only  bite  very  slightly  to 
prevent  the  delicate  modelling  from  being  lost.  He  never 
had  been  so  successful  in  applying  his  scientific  theories  to 
etching,  and  rarely  more  satisfied  with  the  results.  His  first 
idea  was  to  publish  the  prints,  like  the  two  Venetian  series 
in  a  Set,  through  the  Fine  Art  Society,  but  nothing  came  of 
it.  A  few  were  bought  at  once  for  the  South  Kensington  and 
Windsor  Collections,  and  several  were  shown  that  spring  in 
Mr.  Dunthorne's  gallery.  About  this  time,  we  returned  for  a 
few  months  to  London  and  J.  commenced  to  write  occasionally 
in  the  London  press,  succeeding  i\Ir.  George  Bernard  Shaw 
as  art  critic  on  the  Star.  This  is  his  impression,  written  when 
he  saw  them  then  : 

"  I  stepped  in  at  Dunl  home's  the  other  afternoon,  to  have  a 
look  at  the  etchings  of  Amsterdam  by  Mr.  Whistler.  There  are 
only  eight  of  them,  I  think,  but  they  are  eight  of  the  most  exquisite 
renderings  by  the  most  independent  man  of  the  century.  With  two 
exceptions  they  are  only  studies  of  very  undesirable  lodgings  and 
tenements  on  canal  banks,  old  crumbling  brick  houses  reflected  in, 
sluggish  canals,  balconies  with  figures  leaning  over  them,  clothes 
hanging  in  decorative  lines,  a  marvellously  graceful  figure  care- 
lessly standing  in  the  great  water-door  of  an  overhanging  house, 
every  figure  filled  with  life  and  movement,  and  all  its  character 
expressed  in  half  a  dozen  lines.  The  same  houses,  or  others,  at- 
night,  their  windows  illuminated  and  casting  long  trailing 
reflections  in  the  water,  seemed  to  be  singularly  unsuccessful,  the 
plate  being  apparently  under-bitten  and  played  out.  At  any  rate, 
that  was  the  impression  it  produced  on  me.  [We  know  now  and 
have  explained  the  reason  for  this.]  Another  there  \Tas,  of  a 
stretch  of  country  looking  across  a  canal,  windmills  beyond, 
1884-90]  85 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

drawn  as  no  one  since  Rembrandt  could  have  done  it,  and  in  his 
plate  the  greatest  of  modern  etchers  has  pitted  himself  against  the 
greatest  of  the  ancients,  and  has  come  through  only  too  success- 
fully for  Rembrandt .  There  are  three  or  four  others,  I  understand 
not  yet  published  ;  but  this,  certainly  is  the  gem  so  far.  The 
last  is  a  great  drawbridge,  -v^itli  suggestions  of  trees  and  houses, 
figures  and  boats,  and  a  tower  in  the  distance,  done,  I  beheve, 
from  a  canal  in  Amsterdam.  This  is  the  fourth  distinct  series  of 
etchings,  which  Mr.  AMiistler  has  in  the  last  thirty  or  thirty-five 
years  given  the  world  ;  the  early  miscellaneous  French  and 
Enghsh  plates  ;  the  Thames  series,  valued  by  artists  more  than 
by  collectors,  though  even  to  the  latter  they  are  worth  more  than 
their  weight  in  gold  ;  the  Venetian  plates  ;  and  now  these  ;  and 
between  while,  portraits  as  full  of  character  as  Rembrandt's, 
studies  of  London  and  Brussels,  and  I  know  not  what  else  besides 
have  come  from  his  ever  busy  needle.  Had  IVIr.  Whistler  never 
put  brush  to  canvas,  he  has  done  enough  in  these  plates  to  be 
able  to  say  that  he  will  not  altogether  die." 

This  is  very  youthful,  but  it  expressed  J.'s  opinion  when 
we  hardly  knew  Whistler  personally  ;  we  never  heard  that 
he  disapproved  of  it ;  and  we  are  glad  to  resurrect  it 
to-day. 

During  this  period,  he  produced  also  a  large  number  of 
lithographs,  excellently  catalogued  by  Mr.  T.  R.  Way,  who 
printed  most  of  them  for  him,  and  was,  consequently,  well 
qualified  for  the  task.  Three,  The  Winged  Hat,  The  Tyre- 
smith,  and  Maunder's  Fish  Shop,  Chelsea,  were  published  in 
1890  in  a  shortlived  periodical  called  The  Whirhvind,  edited 
by  Mr.  Herbert  Vivian  and  the  Hon.  Stuart  Erskine,  "  in  the 
Legitimist  cause  "  and  to  their  own  great  amusement.  They 
also  published  drawings  by  Mr.  Sidney  Starr  after  three  of 
Whistler's  pictures,  and  were  at  pains  to  boast  in  their  own 
pages  within  a  few  weeks  that  the  lithographs,  issued  for  a 
penny,  could  be  had  only  for  five  shillings.  Five  guineas 
would  now  be  nearer  the  price. 

Another  lithograph,  Chelsea  Rags,  came  out  in  the  January 
86  [1884-90 


M   DK    FIGHUK   AM)   (   I    I'lD 


WORK 

number  (1892)  of  the  Albemarle,  a  monthly  edited  by  Hubert 
Crackanthorpe,  and  W.  H.  Wilkins,  one  of  those  gay  ex- 
periments in  periodical  literature  no  longer  made.  The  four 
appeared  as  Songs  on  Stone,  the  title  proposed  for  a  portfolio 
of  lithographs  in  colour  which  Mr.  Heinemann  announced, 
but  which  never  got  beyond  some  experimenal  sketches  and 
proofs. 


1884-90J  87 


CHAPTER  XXXIII.  HONOURS— EXHIBI- 
TIONS—NEW  INTERESTS.  THE  YEARS 
EIGHTEEN  EIGHTY-NINE  TO  EIGHTEEN 
NINETY 

THE  official  recognition  of  AVhistler  in  England  was 
followed  by  official  honours  from  abroad.  While  he 
was  still  President  of  the  British  Artists,  he  was  asked  for 
the  first  time  to  show  in  the  International  Exhibition  at 
Munich  (1888).  He  sent  his  Lady  Archibald  Campbell  and 
was  awarded  a  second-class  medal.  The  best  comment  on 
the  quality  of  the  award  was  Whistler's  letter  of  acknowledg- 
ment, in  which  he  sent  the  Committee  his  "  sentiments  of 
tempered  and  respectable  joy  "  and  "  complete  appreciation 
of  the  second-hand  compliment."  Munich  made  amends. 
He  was  promptly  elected  an  Honorary  Member  of  the  Bavarian 
Royal  Academy,  and,  a  ^ear  later,  was  given  a  first-class 
medal  and  the  Cross  of  St.  ^Michael,  Almost  at  the  same 
moment  the  French  Government  appointed  him  Chevalier  of 
the  Legion  of  Honour  and  he  received  a  first-class  medal 
at  the  Paris  Universal  Exhibition.  Another  gold  medal 
this  same  year  (1889)  came  from  Amsterdam.  The  year 
before,  Mr.  E.  J.  Van  Wisselingh  had  bought  from  Messrs. 
Dowdeswell  Effie  Deans,  which  he  had  seen  in  the  Edinburgh 
Exhibition  of  1886,  though  it  was  there  skied  out  of  almost 
everybody's  sight.  He  sold  it,  within  a  very  short  time,  to 
Baron  Van  Lynden,  of  The  Hague,  then  making  the  fine 
collection  bequeathed  by  the  Baroness  Van  Lynden  in  1900 
to  the  Rijks  Museum  at  Amsterdam.  The  picture  is  the  only 
88  [1S.S9 


EKFIK  DEAXS 


HONOURS,  EXHIBITIONS,  ETC. 

one  to  which  Whistler  gave  a  literary  title,  except  the  lovely 
Annabel  Lee,  never  exhibited,  of  which  there  is  a  pastel  in 
existence  just  as  beautiful,  once  in  the  possession  of  Mr. 
Thomas  Way,  now  in  that  of  Mr.  Freer.  Effle  Deans  is  ap- 
parently a  portrait  of  "  Maud,"  and  it  belongs  to  the  period 
of  The  Fur  Jacket  and  the  Rosa  Corder.  The  Butterfly  was 
added  later.  The  picture  was  not  signed  when  bought  by 
Baron  Van  Lynden,  who,  hearing  from  Van  Wisselingh,  that 
Whistler  was  in  Holland,  asked  him  to  sign  it.  He  not  only 
did  so,  but  we  believe  then  added  the  quotation  from  the 
Heart  of  Midlothian,  written  at  the  bottom  of  the  canvas  : 
"  She  sunk  her  head  upon  her  hand  and  remained  seemingly 
unconscious  as  a  statue,"  the  only  inscription  of  the  kind  on 
any  of  his  paintings  that  we  have  ever  seen.  The  picture  was 
sent  to  the  exhibition  of  1889  in  Amsterdam,  where  the 
Mother  and  The  Fur  Jacket  were  hung  with  it.  We  have 
heard  that  Israels  and  Mesdag,  who  were  little  in  sympathy 
with  Whistler,  objected  to  a  medal  being  given  to  him,  but 
James  Maris  insisted. 

Few  things  ever  pleased  Whistler  more  than  the  honours 
from  Amsterdam,  Munich,  and  Paris.  To  celebrate  the 
Bavarian  medal  and  decoration,  his  friends  gave  him  a 
"  complimentarj'  dinner,"  at  the  Criterion  on  May  1, 
1889.  Mr.  E.  M.  Underdown,  Q.C.,  was  in  the  chair.  Two 
Royal  Academicians,  Sir  W.  Q.  Orchardson,  whose  work 
Whistler  admired,  and  Mr.  Alfred  Gilbert,  a  friend  then  and 
ever,  were  present,  and  also  Sir  Coutts  Lindsay,  Stuart 
Wortley,  Edmund  Yates — Atlas,  who  never  failed  him — 
among  many  others.  Whistler  was  moved,  and  not  ashamed  to 
show  it.  Stuart  Wortley,  in  a  speech,  said  that  Whistler  had 
influenced  every  artist  in  England  ;  Sir  W.  Q.  Orchardson 
described  him  as  "  a  true  artist ;  "  and,  this  time,  Atlas  spoke, 
not  only  with  the  weight  of  the  World  on  his  shoulders,  but 
with  praise  and  affection.  Whistler  began  with  a  laugh  at 
1 889]  89 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

this  "  age  of  rapid  results  when  remedies  insist  upon  their 
diseases."  But  his  voice  is  said  to  have  been  full  of  emotion 
before  the  end  : 

"  You  must  feel  that,  for  me,  it  is  no  easy  task  to  reply  under 
conditions  of  which  I  have  so  httle  habit.  We  are  aU  even  too 
conscious  that  mine  has  hitherto,  I  fear,  been  the  gentle  answer 

that  sometimes  turneth  not  away  wrath It  has  before 

now  been  borne  in  upon  me  that  in  siuroundings  of  antagonism,  I 
may  have  wrapped  myself,  for  protection,  in  a  species  of  mis- 
understanding— as  that  other  traveller  drew  closer  about  him  the 
folds  of  his  cloak  the  more  bitterly  the  winds  and  the  storm 
assailed  him  on  his  way.  But,  eis  with  him,  when  the  sun  shone 
upon  him  in  his  path,  his  cloak  fell  from  his  shoulders,  so  I,  in 
the  warm  glow  of  your  friendship,  throw  from  me  all  former  dis- 
guise, and,  making  no  further  attempt  to  hide  my  true  feehng, 
disclose  to  you  my  deep  emotion  at  such  imwonted  testimony  of 
affection  and  faith." 

This  was  the  only  public  testimonial  he  ever  received  in 
England,  and  one  of  the  few  public  functions  at  which  he 
assisted.  He  seldom  attended  public  dinners,  those  solemn 
feasts  of  funeral  baked  meats  by  which  "  the  Islander  soothes 
his  conscience  and  purchases  public  approval."  We  remember 
that  he  did  not  appear  at  the  first  dinner  of  the  Society  of 
Authors,  where  his  place  was  beside  ours — a  dinner  given  to 
American  authors,  at  which  Lowell  presided.  He  rarely, 
if  ever,  was  seen  in  the  City,  and  rarely  was  asked  in  Paris. 
As  an  outsider,  he  was  never  invited  to  the  Academy. 
Even  little  private  functions,  like  the  Johnson  Club,  to 
which  J.  has  taken  him,  he  did  not  care  for.  We  know  how 
easy  it  is  to  be  bored,  how  difficult  to  be  amused,  on  all  such 
occasions.     He  preferred  not  to  run  the  risk. 

Of  the  gentle  answer  that  turneth  not  away  wrath,  1889 
was  full  of  examples.  At  the  Universal  Exhibition  in  Paris, 
Whistler,  an  American,  naturally  proposed  to  show  with 
Americans.  Lady  Archibald  Campbell  and  The  Balcony 
90  [1889 


HONOURS,    EXHIBITIONS,    ETC. 

were  the  pictures  he  selected  ;  he  sent  twenty-seven  etchings, 
kno^ving  that,  in  a  big  exhibition,  a  few  prints  make  no  effect. 
The  first  official  acknowledgment  was  a  printed  notice  from 
General  Rush  C.  Hawkins,  "  Cavalry  Officer,"  Commissioner 
for  the  American  Art  Department  : 

"  Sir, — Ten  of  your  exhibits  have  not  received  the  approval  of 
the  jury.     Will  you  kindly  remove  them  ?  " 

Whistler's  answer  was  an  immediate  journey  to  Paris,  a 
call  on  General  Hawkins,  the  peremptory  withdrawal  of  all 
his  prints  and  pictures,  to  the  General's  embarrassment. 
Whistler  wrote  afterwards  to  ^the  New  York  Herald,  the 
Paris  Edition  :    ^j    . 

"  Had  I  been  properly  advised  that  the  room  was  less  than  the 
demand  for  place,  I  would,  of  course,  have  instantly  begged  the 
gentlemen  of  the  jury  to  choose,  from  among  the  number,  what 
•    etchings  they  pleased." 

Twenty-seven  etchings,  unless  specially  invited,  were  rather  a 
large  number  to  send  to  any  exhibition  where  space  is  limited. 
He  had  been  already  asked  to  contribute  to  the  British 
Section,  and  to  it  he  now  took  the  two  pictures  and  some  of 
the  prints.  Though  General  Hawkins'  action  is  as  incom- 
prehensible as  his  appointment  to  such  a  post.  Whistler  made 
a  mistake.  There  is  no  doubt  that,  had  his  seventeen 
accepted  prints  remained  in  the  American  Section,  he  would 
have  had  a  much  better  show  than  in  the  English,  where, 
for  etching  Seymour  Haden,  and  not  Whistler,  carried  off  the 
honours. 

"  Whistler's  Grievance  "  got  into  the  papers.  He  ex- 
plained the  situation  in  the  Pall  Mall  at  the  time — April 
27,  1889.  Months  after,  the  subject  was  revived.  An 
interview  with  him  was  published  in  the  Paris  Edition  of  the 
New  York  Herald,  October  3,  1889.  General  Hawkins 
answered  by  means  of  an  interview  for  the  next  day's  Herald. 
i«S9]  91 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

Whistler  wrote  from  Amsterdam.  Letters  and  interviews 
remain  in  The  Gentle  Art.  Since  his  death,  the  afiair  has  been 
used  as  a  reproach  against  him.  He  pretended  to  despise 
the  English,  it  is  said,  but  in  an  International  Exhibition, 
before  the  whole  world,  he  "  preferred  "  to  be  represented  in 
the  British  Section.  If  in  1889  he  identified  himself  with 
the  British,  it  was  due  solely  to  the  discourtesy,  as  he  con- 
sidered it,  of  his  countrjTnen.  There  was  no  denial  of  his  own 
nationality. 

When  Whistler  left  the  British  Artists,  in  1888,  there  was 
not  a  society  in  England  with  whom  he  had  the  right  to  exhibit. 
The  New  Gallery  had  taken  over  the  played-out  traditions  of 
the  Grosvenor,  but  he  did  not  follow  to  Regent  Street.  His 
Carlyle,  several  drawings,  and  many  etchings  went  to  the 
Glasgow  Exhibition  that  year,  and  he  was  well  represented  at 
the  first  Pastel  Exhibition  at  the  Grosvenor.  He  was  more 
in  sympathy  with  the  New  English  Art  Club  than  any  other 
group  of  artists.  It  was  then  in  its  first  youth  and  enthu- 
siasm, most  of  the  j'ounger  men  of  promise  or  talent  belonged, 
and  it  might  have  accomplished  great  things,  had  its  founders 
carried  out  their  original  ambition.  Whistler  was  never  a 
member,  but  he  sent  a  White  Note  and  the  etching  of  the 
Grande  Place,  Brussels,  to  the  exhibition  in  1888,  and  Rose 
and  Red,  a  jjastel,  in  1889,  when  he  was  elected  by  the  votes 
of  the  exhibitors  to  the  jury.  To  the  infinite  loss  of  the  Club, 
his  connection  with  it  then  ceased.  This  same  year  (1SS9), 
at  the  Institute  of  the  Fine  Arts  at  Glasgow,  The  Mother 
strengthened  the  impression  made  by  the  Carlyle  the  year 
before ;  there  was  a  show  of  his  work  at  the  College  for 
Working  Women  in  Queen  Square,  London  ;  and  a  picture 
difficult  to  identify,  entitled  The  Grey  Lady,  was  included  in 
an  exhibition  at  the  Art  Institute,  Chicago. 

The  show  at  Queen  Square  was  remarkable.  There  had 
not  been  anywhere  such  a  representative  collection  of  his 
92  fissp 


AXNAHKL  I,EK 

( I'aaM) 


HONOURS,    EXHIBITIONS,    ETC. 

work  since  his  own  exhibition  of  1874.  The  Mother,  Carlyle, 
Rosa  Corder,  Irving  were  there,  many  pastels  and  water- 
colours,  and  many  etchings  of  all  periods  from  the  Thames 
series  to  the  last  in  Touraine  and  Belgium.  We  remember 
how  it  impressed  us  when  we  came  to  the  fine  old  Queen  Anne 
house  in  the  quiet,  out-of-the-way  Square,  how  indignant  we 
were  to  find  nobody  there  but  one  solitary  man  and  the  young 
lady  at  the  desk,  and  how  urgently  we  wrote  in  the  Star  that, 
if  there  were  as  many  as  half  a  dozen  people  who  cared  for 
good  work,  they  should  go  at  once  to  see  this  exhibition  of 
"  the  man  who  has  done  more  to  influence  artists  than  any 
modern."  There  is  a  legend  of  Whistler's  coming  one  day, 
taking  a  picture  from  the  wall,  and  walking  off  with  it,  despite 
the  protest  of  the  attendant  and  the  Principal  of  the  College, 
wishing,  so  the  legend  goes,  to  carry  out  the  theory  he  was 
soon  to  assert  that  pictures  were  "  only  kindly  lent  their 
owners."  But  the  story  of  his  running  off  with  it  across  the 
Square,  iollowed  by  the  College  staff  screaming  "  Stop  thief," 
and  being  nearly  run  in  by  a  policeman,  is  a  poor  invention. 
His  desire,  however,  to  keep  his  pictures  in  his  own  possession, 
his  hope  that  those  who  bought  them  would  keep  them, 
was  growing,  and  his  disgust  when  they  were  sold,  especially 
if  at  increased  prices,  was  well  expressed  in  his  answer  to  a 
friend  who  said  :  "  Staats  Forbes  tells  me  that  that  picture 
of  yours  he  has  will  be  the  last  picture  he  will  ever  part  with." 
"  li'm,"  said  Whistler,  who  had  had  later  news,  "  it  is  the 
last  picture  he  has." 

In  March  1890,  Whistler  moved  to  No.  21  Cheyne  Walk, 
a  beautiful  old  house,  with  a  garden  at  the  back,  further 
down  the  Embankment  than  Lindsey  Row,  and  close  to 
Rossetti's  Tudor  House.  It  was  panelled  from  the  street 
door  to  the  very  top.  A  cool  scheme  of  blue  and  white 
decorated  the  dining-room,  where  there  was  always  one 
perfect  painting  over  the  mantel,  and,  Mr.  Francis  James 
1890]  93 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

has  told  us,  the  Six  Projects  hung  for  a  while  on  the  walls. 
The  drawing-room  on  the  first  floor  was  turned  into  a 
studio,  there  was  a  beautiful  bedroom  above,  and  the  rest 
of  the  house  was  empty  and  bare.  M.  Gerard  Harry,  who, 
whenever  in  London  at  this  period,  saw  much  of  Whistler, 
writes  us  : 

"  Wiistler  was  certainly  a  delightful  man,  besides  being  an 
artistic  genius.  It  always  seemed  to  me  that  his  lavish  wit  begat 
wit  aU  around  him.  To  hear  him  was  to  drink  sparkling  cham- 
pagne, and  he  lit  others'  brains  with  his  own  Ught.  I  remember 
a  striking  remark  of  his,  at  a  garden-party  in  his  Chelsea  house. 
As  he  caught  me  observing  some  incompletely  furnished  rooms 
and  questioning  within  myself  whether  he  had  occupied  the  house 
more  than  a  fortnight  or  so  :  '  You  see,'  he  said,  with  his  short 
laugh,  '  I  do  not  care  for  definitely  setthng  down  anywhere. 
Where  there  is  no  more  space  for  improvement,  or  dreaming  about 
improvement,  where  mystery  is  in  perfect  shape,  it  is  finis — the 
end — death.  There  is  no  hope,  nor  outlook  left.'  I  do  not  vouch 
for  the  words,  but  that  was  certainly  the  sense  of  a  remark  which 
struck  me  as  offering  a  key  to  much  of  Whistler's  phUosopliy,  and 
to  one  aspect  of  his  original  art." 

On  September  24,  1890,  Mr.  Alan  S.  Cole,  calhng  at 
Cheyne  Walk,  "  found  him  painting  some  excellent  half  and 
quarter-length  portraits — very  strong  and  fine."  What  these 
were,  it  is  now  difficult  to  say,  though  one  probably  was  the 
well-known  Harmony  in  Black  and  Gold,  Comie  Robert  de 
Montesquieu- Fezensac,  Whistler's  fourth  portrait  of  a  man  in 
evening  dress.  Another  may  have  been  the  second  portrait 
which  was  never  finished,  but  which  Montesquiou  described 
to  Edmund  de  Goncourt,  according  to  a  note  in  his  Journal 
for  July  7,  1891  : 

"  Montesquiou  tells  me  that  ^\liistler  is  now  doing  two  portraits 
of  him  :  one  is  in  evening  dress,  with  a  fur  cloak  under  his  arm, 
the  other  in  a  great  grey  cloak  with  high  collar,  at  his  neck,  just 
suggested,  a  necktie  of  a  mauve  not  to  be  put  into  words,  though 
his  eyes  express  the  ideal  colour  of  it.  And  Montesquiou  is  most 
94  [181)0 


HONOURS,    EXHIBITIONS,    ETC. 

interesting  to  listen  to  as  he  explains  the  method  of  painting  of 
Whistler,  to  whom  he  gave  seventeen  sittings  during  a  month 
spent  in  London.  The  first  sketching-in  of  his  subject  is  with 
Wliistler  a  fury,  a  passion  :  one  or  two  hours  of  this  ^\-ild  fever, 
and  the  subject  emerges,  complete  in  its  envelope.  Then, 
sittings,  long  sittings,  when  most  of  the  time,  the  brush  is  brought 
close  to  the  canvas,  but  does  not  touch  it,  is  thrown  away,  and 
another  taken,  and  sometimes  in  three  hours,  not  more  than 
fifty  touches  are  given  to  the  canvas — every  touch,  according  to 
Whistler,  lifting  a  veil  from  the  sketch." 

"  Oh,  sittings  !  when  it  seemed  to  Montesquiou  that  Wlnstler 
by  that  intentness  of  observation,  was  draining  from  him  his  life, 
something  of  his  individuality,  and,  in  the  end,  he  was  so  exhausted, 
that  he  felt  as  if  all  his  being  was  shrinking  away,  but,  happily,  he 
discovered  a  certain  vm  de  coca  that  restored  him  after  those 
terrible  sittings." 

J.  went  only  once  to  No.  21  Cheyne  Walk.  Then  it  was 
to  consult  Whistler  concerning  Sir  Hubert  von  Herkomer's 
publication,  An  Idyl,  in  which  photogravure  reproductions 
of  pen-drawings  were  issued  as  etchings.  Whistler  received 
J.  in  the  white-panelled  dining-room,  where  he  was  break- 
fasting on  an  egg.  He  felt  that  the  results  of  such  a  confusion 
of  terms  might  be  serious  to  the  etcher,  he  was  indignant  of 
course,  and  he  lent  his  support  to  W.  E.  Henley,  who  was 
editing  the  National  Observer  and  who  had  taken  up  the  matter 
in  that  paper.  The  excitement  throughout  was  great,  and  the 
newspaper  discussion  as  lively  as  the  reputation  of  Henley's 
weekly.  Whistler's  interest  never  slackened.  From  this  time 
J.  saw  him  oftener,  meeting  him  in  clubs,  in  galleries,  in  friend's 
houses,  or  rooms,  occasionally  at  Solferino's,  the  little  res- 
taurant in  Rupert  Street,  which  was  for  several  years  the 
meeting-place,  a  club  really,  for  the  staff  of  the  Scots,  especially 
after  it  was  changed  to  the  National,  Observer.  Nobody  who 
ever  went  there  to  lunch  on  press  day  at  the  Academy,  or 
the  New  English  Art  Club,  or  the  New  Gallery,  is  likely  to 
forget  the  talk  round  the  table  in  the  corner.  Never  have  we 
1890]  95 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

heard  R.  A.  M. — "  Bob  " — Stevenson  more  brilliant,  more 
paradoxical,  more  inspiriting  than  at  these  mid-day  gatherings. 
Whistler's  first  encounter  with  Henley's  paper,  then  edited 
in  Edinburgh,  was  a  sharp  skirmish,  which,  though  he  after- 
wards became  friendly  with  Henley,  he  never  quite  forgot 
nor  forgave.  Henley  was  publishing  a  series  of  articles  called 
Modern  Men,  among  whom  he  included  ^\Tiistler,  "  the  Yankee 
with  the  methods  of  Barnum."  The  policy  of  the  National 
Observer  was  to  fight,  everybody,  everj-thing,  and  it  must 
be  said  that  it  fought  with  great  spirit.  But  it  had  no  patience 
with  the  battles  of  others.  Of  ^\^listle^  the  artist,  it 
approved,  but  not  of  Whistler  the  writer  of  letters,  whom  it 
pronounced  rowdy  and  unpleasant.  "  Malvolio-Macaire  "  was 
the  name  for  him  it  often  repeated.  At  last,  in  noticing 
Sheridan  Ford's  Gentle  Art,  of  which  we  shall  presently  have 
more  to  say,  it  continued  in  the  same  strain,  and  a  copy  of 
the  paper  containing  the  review,  "  with  proud  mark,  in  the 
blue  pencil  of  office,"  was  sent  to  Whistler.  He  answered 
promptly  with  a  laugh  at  "  the  thick  thumb  of  your  editorial 
refinement  "  pointed  "  in  depreciation  of  my  choice  rowdy- 
ism." Two  things  came  of  the  letter — one,  amusing  ;  the 
other,  a  better  understanding,  ^^^listler's  answer  finished 
with  a  "  regret  that  the  ridiculous  '  Romeike  '  has  not  hitherto 
sent  me  your  agreeable  literature."  Romeike  objected  ;  he 
had  sent  eight  hundred  and  seven  clippings  to  Whistler  :  he 
demanded  an  apology.  ^ATiistler  gave  it  without  hesitation  : 
he  had  never  thought  of  Romeike  as  a  person,  and,  he  wrote, 
"  if  it  be  not  actionable,  permit  me  to  say  that  you  really  are 
delightful  !  !  "  No  one  could  appreciate  the  wit,  the  fun  of 
it  all  better  than  Henley,  and  he  was  the  more  eager  to  meet 
WTiistler.  His  accoimt  of  the  meeting,  when  it  came  about, 
was  coloured  by  the  enthusiasm  that  made  Henley  the  stimu- 
lating person  he  was.  "  And  we  met,"  he  would  say,  throwing 
back  his  great  head  and  laughing  with  joy,  though  he  gave  no 
96  [1890 


HONOURS,    EXHIBITIONS,    ETC. 

details  of  the  interview.  Henley  always  managed  to  find 
"  the  earnest  of  romance  "  in  everything  that  happened  to 
him.  "  And  there  we  were — Whistler  and  I — together  !  " 
he  would  repeat,  as  if  it  were  the  most  dramatic  situation 
ever  imagined. 

The  bond  between  them  was  their  love  for  the  Thames. 
Henley  was  the  first  to  sing  that  special  beauty  of  the  river 
which  Whistler  was  the  first  to  paint.  He  could  see  its  loveli- 
ness in  the  midsummer  night  when  it  was  "  a  tangle  of  silver 
gleams  and  dusky  lights,"  or  its  mystery 

"  Under  a  stagnant  sky, 
Gloom  out  of  gloom  uncoiling  into  gloom ; " 

and  when  he  wrote  the  verses  (No.  XIII.  in  Rhymes  and 
Rhijlhms)  that  gave  the  very  feeling,  the  magical  charm  of 
the  Nocturnes — 

"  AVliat  of  the  incantation 
That  forced  the  huddled  shapes  on  j'onder  shore 
To  take  and  wear  the  night 
Like  a  material  majesty  ? 
That  touched  the  shafts  of  wavering  fire 
About  this  miserable  welter  and  wash — 
(River,  O  River  of  Journeys,  River  of  Dreams  !) — 
Into  long,  shining  signals  from  the  panes 
Of  an  enchanted  pleasure-house  "... 

he  dedicated  them  to  Whistler.  Big  and  splendid  as  a  Viking, 
exuberant,  emphatic,  Henley  was  not,  however,  the  type 
physically  to  interest  Whistler.  The  sketch  of  him  (made 
in  1896)  is  one  of  Whistler's  least  satisfactory  lithographs, 
and  only  six  impressions  were  pulled.  But  their  relations 
were  always  cordial,  and  when  the  National  Observer  was 
transferred  to  London,  and  Henley  returned  with  it.  Whistler 
sometimes  came  to  the  dinners  of  the  staff  at  Solferino's. 
Henley  had  gathered  about  him  the  younger  literary  men 
and  journalists  of  promise :  Rudyard  Kipling,  "  Bob  " 
Stevenson,  J.  M.  Barrie,  Marriott  Watson,  G.  S.  Street, 
1890]  II  :g  97 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

Vernon  Blackburn,  Fitzmaurice  Kelly,  Arthur  Morrison, 
Charles  \MiibIey,  Kenneth  Graham,  George  W.  Steevens. 
After  Mr.  Astor  bought  the  Pall  Mall  Gazetie,  its  staff 
was  largely  recruited  from  the  National  Observer,  and  JNIr. 
Henry  Cust,  the  editor,  and  Mr.  Ivan-Muller  the  assistant- 
editor,  joined  the  group  in  the  room  upstairs.  When  dinner 
was  all  over  and  Henley,  in  his  usual  fashion,  was  thunder- 
ing on  the  table,  the  rest  listening,  ^\^listler  occasionally 
dropped  in,  and  the  contrast  between  him  and  Henley  added 
to  the  entertainment  of  those  memorable  evenings  :  Henley, 
the  "  Burly  "  of  Stevenson's  essay  on  Talk  and  Talkers,  who 
would  "  roar  you  down  .  .  .  bury  his  face  in  his  hands  .  .  . 
undergo  passions  of  revolt  and  agony  ;  "  Whistler,  who  would 
interpose  the  telling  word,  let  fly  the  shaft  of  wit  lighth", 
whose  eloquent  hands  emphasised  it  with  delicate,  graceful 
gesture,  whose  "Ha,  ha!"  rose  gaily  above  Henley's  bois- 
terous intolerance.  When  "  Bob  "  Stevenson  was  there— 
"  Sjjring-Heel'd  Jack  '" — the  entertainment  was  complete. 
But  each  of  the  three  talked  his  best  when  he  held  the  floor 
and  we  have  known  Whistler  far  more  brilliant  when  dining 
quietly  alone  with  us.  From  Solferino's,  at  a  late  hour  when 
Henley,  as  always  in  his  lameness,  had  been  helped  to  his 
cab,  Whistler  and  J.  would  retire  with  "  Bob  "  Stevenson  and 
a  little  group  to  the  Savile,  where  everything  under  Heaven 
was  discussed  by  them.  Professor  Walter  Raleigh,  Reginald 
Blomfield  and  Charles  Furse  frequently  joining  them,  and  they 
rarely  left  until  the  club  was  closed.  Whistler  would,  in  his 
turn,  be  seen  to  his  cab  on  his  way  home,  and  a  smaller  group 
would  listen  to  "  Bob  "  between  Piccadilly  and  W^estminster 
Bridge,  waiting  for  him  to  catch  the  first  morning  train  to 
Kew. 

Whistler  seldom  left  without  some  parting  shot  which  his 
friends  remembered,  though  he  was  apparently  unconscious 
of  the  effect  of  these  bewildering  little  sayings  of  his  as  he 
98  1890 


HONOURS,    EXHIBITIONS,    ETC. 

returned  to  his  house  in  Cheyne  Walk.  There,  he  was  often 
followed  by  his  new  friends  and  often  visited  by  the  few 
"  artists "  he  had  not  cared  to  lose,  especially  Mr.  Francis 
James  and  Mr.  Theodore  Roussel.  A  few  Followers  also  con- 
tinued to  flutter  at  his  heels.  Portraits  of  some  of  those  who 
came  to  21  Cheyne  Walk,  are  in  the  lithograph  of  The  Garden  : 
Sir.  Walter  Sickert,  Mr.  Sidney  Starr,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brandon 
Thomas.  Mr.  Walter  Sickert  had  married  Miss  Ellen  Cobden, 
and  she  was  a  constant  visitor.  So  also  were  Henry  Harland, 
later  on  editor  of  the  Yellow  Book,  Wolcot  Balestier,  the  enter- 
prising youth  who  set  out  to  "  corner  "  the  literature  of  the 
world,  and  who,  with  Mr.  S.  S.  McClure,  was  bent  on  syn- 
dicating everybody,  including  Whistler  ;  Miss  Carrie  Balestier. 
now  Mrs.  Rudyard  Kipling  ;  an  American  journalist  called 
Haxton  with  a  stammer  which  Whistler  adored  to  the  point 
of  borrowing  it  on  occasions,  though  he  never  could  manage 
the  last  stage  when  words  that  refused  to  be  spoken  had  to  be 
spelled.  Another  was  Andre  Raffalovitch,  the  Russian 
youth  and  poet,  whose  receptions  brought  together  many  of 
the  most  amusing  as  well  as  fantastic  elements  of  London 
society.  But  the  most  intimate  friend  he  made  at  this  period 
was  Mr.  William  Heinemann,  and  this  brings  us  to  the  great 
event  of  1890,  the  publication  of  The  Gentle  Art  of  Making 
Enemies. 


1890]  99 


CHAPTER  XXXIV.  "THE  GENTLE  ART." 
THE  YEAR  EIGHTEEN  HUNDRED  AND 
NINETY 

FOR  years,  Whistler's  letters  to  the  papers  puzzled  the 
crowd.  George  Moore  accounted  for  them  in  Modern 
Painting  by  an  elaborate  theory  of  physical  feebleness, 
and  this  has  been  taken  seriously  even  in  France  and  America. 
One  glimpse  of  Whistler  at  the  printing  jiress,  sleeves  rolled 
up  showing  two  strong  arms,  and  the  theory  would  have  been 
knocked  out.  The  letters  were  not  an  eccentricity  ;  they 
were  not  a  weakness.  From  the  first,  written  to  the  Ath- 
cnceum  in  1862,  they  had  but  one  aim — "  to  make  historJ^" 
Buried  in  the  papers,  they  were  lost ;  if  the  histor}^  were  to  be 
made  they  must  be  collected.  They  were  collected  and 
edited  in  The  Gentle  Art  of  Making  Enemies  as  Pleasingly 
Exemplified  in  Many  Instances,  Wherein  the  Serious  Ones  oj 
This  Earth,  Carefully  Exasperated,  Have  Been  Prettily  Spurred 
On  to  Unseemliness  and  Indiscretion,  While  Overcome  by  an 
Undue  Sense  of  Right. 

The  book  born  of  years  of  fighting,  was  ushered  into  the 
world  by  a  fight.  The  work  of  collecting  and  arranging  the 
letters  was  at  first  undertaken  by  Mr.  Sheridan  Ford,  an 
American  journalist  in  London.  Whistler  said  that  Ford  only 
helped  him.  Ford  said  that  the  idea  was  his,  that  he,  with 
Whistler's  approval,  was  collecting  and  editing  the  letters  for 
a  publication  of  his  own.  We  give  Ford's  side  of  the  story  by 
one  who  followed  it  at  the  time,  Mr.  J.  McLure  Hamilton,  and 
this  we  are  better  pleased  to  do  because  Wliistler  misunder- 
100  [1890 


I/AMERICAIXK 

(ylnniii/imrnt  in  11/titi:  and  Vliile,  .\u.  I.) 


"THE    GENTLE    ART" 

stood  Mr.  Hamilton's  part  in  the  matter,  and  credited  him 
with  a  malice  and  enmity  that  few  men  could  be  so  utterly 
incapable  of  as  he.  Whistler  would  not  consent  to  meet  him 
in  later  years,  and  never  understood  why  we  should  not  agree 
in  his  view  of  Mr.  Hamilton  as  "  a  dangerous  person."  By 
accident,  they  nevertheless  did  meet  in  our  flat.  Whistler 
was  dining  with  us,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  called  in  the 
evening.  Other  people  were  there,  and  they  simply  ignored 
one  another.  Chance  had  blundered  in  its  choice  of  the 
moment  for  the  meeting. 

The  following  is  Mr.  Hamilton's  account  of  Sheridan  Ford's 
part  in  The  Gentle  Art,  and  we  cannot  help  suspecting  that 
Whistler  would  have  felt  the  unfairness  of  his  judgment  of 
Mr.  Hamilton's  conduct  in  the  matter,  could  he  have  read  it  : 

"  In  the  spring  of  1889,  I  met  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sheridan  Ford. 
Sheridan  Ford  was  writing  notices  for  the  New  York  Herald,  and 
Mrs.  Sheridan  Ford  had  been  interesting  picture-dealers  in  the 
work  of  such  men  as  Swan,  Clausen,  Melville  and  others.  Ford 
had  a  very  strong  inborn  taste  for  art,  and  seemed  to  be  con- 
scientiously opposed  to  all  forms  of  trickery,  and  was  engaged  at 
that  time  on  a  series  of  articles,  which  appeared  almost  daily  in 
the  columns  of  the  New  York  Herald  (London  Edition),  upon 
Whistler  and  his  work.  He  was  also  the  author  of  Art,  a  Com- 
modity, a  pamphlet  widely  read  both  in  England  and  America.  He 
came  to  me  one  day,  and  told  me  of  an  idea  that  he  thought  could 
be  carried  out  with  advantage  both  to  himself  and  Whistler.  He 
suggested  that  the  letters  which  Whistler  had  been  pubhshing  from 
time  to  time  in  the  press,  in  answer  to  the  defamation  of  his  critics, 
could  be  brought  together,  edited,  and  pubhshed  in  book  form. 
The  title  was  naturally  to  be  The  Gentle  Art  of  Making  Enemies. 
The  title,  I  understood,  was  Ford's.  Whistler  and  he  had  talked 
the  matter  over,  and  it  was  agreed  between  them  that  Ford  should 
collect  the  letters,  edit  them  witli  some  remarks  of  his  own,  and 
publish  the  book  for  his  own  profit. 

"  The  work  went  on  for  some  months,  and  occasionally  Ford 

would  bring  me  some  of  the  letters  that  he  had  unearthed  from  the 

newspaper  files  at  the  British  Museum,   to  read.     I   was  not 

18J)0]  lOl 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

acquainted  with  \\Tiistler,  but  from  what  Ford  told  me,  I  under- 
stood that  \Miistler  was  as  much  interested  in  the  progress  of 
tliis  book  as  Ford.  The  latter  seemed  to  be  looking  forward,  with 
great  eagerness,  to  the  production  of  a  book  which  could  not  fail 
to  amuse  the  art  world. 

"  One  morning  Ford  came  to  me  at  Alpha  House  in  great]dis- 
tress.  He  brought  with  him  a  letter  from  ^^^listler  requesting 
him  to  discontinue  the  making  of  the  book,  and  containing  a 
cheque  for  ten  pounds  in  payment  for  the  trouble  that  he  had  had 
in  collecting  the  materials.  The  book  at  that  time  was  almost 
complete,  and  the  preface  written.  After  a  prolonged  talk  with 
him  upon  all  the  bearings  of  the  case,  I  concluded  that  AVhistler's 
change  of  mind  had  been  determined  by  the  discovery  that  there 
would  be  too  much  credit  and  profit  lost  to  him  if  he  allowed  Ford 
to  bring  out  the  work,  and  that  probably  Jlrs.  AMiistler  had  sug- 
gested to  Whistler  that  it  would  be  a  great  gain  to  him  if  he  were 
to  issue  the  letters  himself.  Ford  asked  me  what  I  would  advise 
him  to  do.  I  replied  that  I,  personally,  would  not  go  on  ^^•ith  the 
book,  but  that  if  he  were  careful  to  omit  all  copyright  matter,  he 
would  be  perfectly  justified  in  continuing,  after  having,  of  course 
returned  the  cheque  to  ^^^listle^.  I  have  no  doubt  that  Ford 
asked  the  advice  of  others,  for  soon  he  brought  me  the  advanced 
proofs  to  read,  and  I  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  going  over  them, 
and  sometimes  suggesting  alterations  and  improvements.  Soon 
after  this  I  and  my  family  left  London  for  South  Wales.  A  note 
from  Ford  reached  me  there  telling  me  that  the  book  was  finished, 
and  asking  my  permission  to  dedicate  it  to  me.  I  wrote,  in  reply, 
that  I  did  not  wish  the  work  dedicated  to  me,  as  it  was  a  jest  book, 
and  for  other  reasons  of  my  own.  Ford  found  a  good  publisher 
(you  will  remember  the  name),  who  evidently  was  wiOing  to  under- 
take the  publication  of  the  work,  and,  as  far  as  I  could  see,  every- 
thing was  going  on  satisfactorily,  when  one  morning  Ford  called 
to  see  me  and  told  me  that  Whistler  had  discovered  the  printer, 
and  had  threatened  to  proceed  against  liim  if  he  did  not  immedi- 
ately destroy  the  sheets,  and  he  (Whistler)  found  and  seized  the  first 
sewn-up  copy  (or  leaves)  with  my  name  on  the  dedication  page,  in 
spite  of  the  refusal  I  had  given. 

"  This  brought,  at  once,  a  letter  from  WTiistler  to  me,  in  which 
he  abruptly  accused  me  of  assisting  Ford  in  wronging  him.  I 
repUed  in  a  few  words,  denjdng  his  allegations.  At  this  interview, 
.Ford's  manner  was  very  strange,  and  for  several  weeks  after  he 

102  [1890 


"THE    GENTLE    ART" 

was  confined  to  his  house  ill,  a  very  natural  consequence  of  seeing 
all  his  hopes  shattered.  He  liad  foreseen  in  tlie  successful  pro- 
duction of  The  Gentle  Art  of  Making  Enemies  the  opening  of  a 
happy  and  profitable  career  in  letters.  After  his  recovery,  Mr.  and 
ill's.  Ford  went  awa3',  pursued  by  the  relentless  activity  of  Whistler-. 
In  the  end,  the  so-called  '  pirated  edition,'  paper-bound,  appeared 
in  Mechlin  *  or  some  other  continental  city,  and  was  more  or  less 
clandestinely  offered  for  sale  in  England.  Whistler's  handsome 
volume  appeared  almost  simultaneously. 

"  Wliile  these  incidents  were  progressing,  I  was  asked  to  dine 
at  the  Hogarth  Club,  and  it  had  evidently  been  pre-arranged  that  I 
should  meet  Whistler  after  dinner  in  the  smoking-room.  This 
was  my  first  introduction  to  the  great  master.  We  talked  Art  and 
commonplace,  but  he  never  touched  upon  the  subject  of  the  book, 
and  as  I  was  quite  sure  the  meeting  had  been  arranged  in  order 
that  he  might  discuss  with  me  Ford's  conduct,  I  could  not  under- 
stand his  silence.  Our  next  meeting  was  at  a  conversazione  held  at 
the  Grosvenor  Galleries,  when  we  both  freely  discussed  together 
the  whole  question  before  Melville,  who  was  displeased  at  the 
attitude  I  took  with  Whistler.  I  frankly  told  him  that  I  thought 
he  had  done  Ford  a  great  wrong  in  withdrawing  the  editorship  of 
the  book  which  rightly  belonged  to  him." 

Sheridan  Ford  persisted  in  his  contention  that  Whistler  had 
conferred  on  him  the  right  to  publish  the  collection,  and  he  an- 
nounced the  simultaneous  publication  of  his  book  in  England 
and  America.  Sir  George  Lewis  stopped  it  in  both  countries. 
The  English  publishers,  INIessrs.  Field  and  Tuer,  of  the 
Leadenhall  Press,  had  supposed  that  Ford  was  acting  for 
Whistler  when  he  brought  the  MSS.  for  them  to  publish.  The 
text  was  set  up  and  cast,  the  type  being  distributed  ;  they 
were  ready  to  print  when  they  discovered  their  mistake. 
"  We  then  sent  for  the  person  in  question,"  they  wrote  to 
Messrs.  Lewis  and  Lewis,  "  and  told  him  that  until  he  obtained 
Mr.  Whistler's  sanction,  we  declined  to  proceed  further  with 
the  work." 

Sheridan  Ford  went  to  Antwerp,  and  had  the  book  printed 

*  It  waii  printed  in  .Vutwcrp,  not  Mechlin, 
1 890]  103 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

there.  Sir  George  Lewis  followed,  and  seized  the  edition  at 
the  printers'  on  the  day  of  publication,  when  vans  for  its 
distribution  were  at  their  door.  The  two  thousand  copies 
printed  were  carried  off  instead  by  the  Procureur  du  Roi. 
The  matter  came  before  the  Belgian  Courts  in  October  1891, 
M.  Edmond  Picard  and  Maifre  JMaeterlinck,  cousin  of  Maeter- 
linck the  poet,  appearing  for  ^Miistler.  M.  Harry,  of  the 
Independance  Beige,  described  \ATiistler  in  the  witness-box, 
with  the  eyes  of  a  Mephistopheles,  flashing  and  sparkling  under 
the  thick  eyebrows,  his  manner  easy  and  gay,  his  French 
fluent  and  perfect.  He  was  asked  his  religion,  and  hesitated. 
The  Judge,  thinking  to  help  him,  suggested,  "  A  Protestant, 
perhajjs  ?  "  His  answer  was  a  little  shrug,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"  I  am  quite  willing.  You  should  know.  As  you  choose  !  "' 
He  was  asked  his  age — even  the  Belgian  reporter  respected 
his  objection  to  having  any.  Judgment  was  given  for  him. 
Sheridan  Ford  was  sentenced  to  a  fine  of  five  himdred  francs, 
or  three  months'  imprisonment ;  to  three  thousand  francs 
damages,  or  three  months  more  ;  to  the  confiscation  of  the 
two  thousand  copies,  and  to  all  costs.  After  the  trial  Whistler 
was  taken  do^vn  to  the  cellars  of  the  Palais  de  Justice,  and 
shown  the  confiscated  copies,  stored  there  with  other  fraudu- 
lent goods,  by  the  law  of  Belgium  destined  to  perish  in  the 
dampness  and  gloom. 

The  affair  has  not  yet  been  forgotten  in  Belgium — nor  has 
Whistler.  One  impression  has  been  written  for  us  by  M. 
Edmond  Picard,  the  distinguished  Senator,  his  advocate  : 

"  En  me  demandant  de  parler  de  Villustre  et  regrette  Whistler, 
vous  ne  disirez  certes  pas  que  fajoiUe  mon  lot  a  la  riche  pyramide 
d'admiration  ct  d'cloges  definitivement  erigee  a  sa  gloire. 

"  II  ne  pent  s'agir,  dans  votre  pensee  que  de  ce  que  je  ponrrais 
ajouier  de  special  et  de  pittoresque  a  la  Biographie  du  Grand  Artiste. 

"  Si  fai  beaucoup  vu  et  aime  ses  oeuvres,  je  n'ai  qu'entrevu  son 
originale  personne. 

"  Void  deux  traits  intiressants  qui  s'y  rapportent. 
104  [18!)0 


"THE    GENTLE    ART" 

"  II  y  a  quelques  annees  il  sHnquUta  d'une  contrefa(;on  qu'un 
etranger  habitant  Anvers  avait  perpi'ire  en  Belgique  de  son  curieux 
livre  '  L'Art  charmant  de  se  faire  des  ennemis.'  Je  le  vis  un  jour 
entrer  dans  mon  cabinet  et  il  me  dit  avec  un  sourire  sarcastique. 
'  Je  souhaiterais  que  vous  fussiez  mon  avocat  dans  cette  petite 
affaire  parcequ'on  irCa  dit  que  vous  pratiqtiez  aussi  bien  que  moi 
Vart  charmant  de  se  faire  des  ennemis.' 

"  Le  proces  jut  gagne  a,  Anvers  avec  la  collaboration  de  mon 
confrere,  M.  Maeterlinck,  parent  du.  poete  qui  honore  tant  noire 
pays.  On  celebra  chez  lui  cette  victoire.  Quand  Whistler,  heros 
de  la  frte,  arriva  dans  Vhospitalicre  maison,  il  s'attardait  dans 
Vantichambre.  La  bonne  qui  Vavait  re<;u  vint,  avec  quelque 
effarement,  dire  en  flamand  au  salon  oii  Von  attendait,  '  Madame, 
c'est  un  acteur  ;  il  se  coiffe  devant  le  miroir,  il  se  pommade,  il  se 
met  du  fard  et  de  la  povdre  !  '  Apres  un  assez  long  intcrvalle. 
Whistler  parut,  courtois,  correct,  cire,  cosmetique,  pimpant  comme 
le  papillon  que  rappele  son  nom  et  qu'il  mit  en  signature,  sur 
quelques  uns  des  billets  qu'il  ccrivit  alors  a,  ses  conseils. 

"  Et  voila  tout  ce  que  je  puis  vous  offrir. 

"  J'ai  demands,  a  M.  Maeterlinck  les  documents  qu'il  pouvait 
avoir  conserves  de  cet  episode  judiciaire.  Ses  recherches  ont  ete 
vaines.  Alors  que  d'innombrables  pieces  insignifiantes  ont  ete 
conservees,  le  Hasard  '  qui  se  permet  tout '  a  fait  disparaitre  ces 
precieuses  epaves." 

The  "  Extraordinary  Piratical  Plot,"  as  Whistler  called  it 
in  The  Gentle  Art,  did  not  end  in  Antwerp.  Sheridan  Ford 
took  the  book  to  Paris,  had  it  printed  there  with  the  name  of 
Frederick  Stokes  and  Brother  of  New  York  on  the  title-page. 
Copies  through  the  post  reached  England,  some  sent  to  news- 
papers for  review,  some  to  individuals,  supposed  to  be  inter- 
ested. Sir  George  Lewis  saw  that  no  further  copies  passed 
the  Customs.  Messrs.  Stokes  cabled  from  New  York  that 
their  name  was  used  without  their  permission.  In  June 
1890,  a  so-called  "  second  edition  "  was  received  by  some 
papers.  But  that  was  the  last  heard  of  it,  and  Sheridan  Ford's 
book  was  killed. 

Once  Whistler  took  up  the  work,  he  spared  himself  no  pains 
1 890]  105 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

to  perfect  it.  His  concern  was  not  only  for  the  selection  of 
material,  all  of  which,  except  a  few  comments  and  "  re- 
flections," had  already  been  published,  but  for  the  appearance 
the  book  should  have,  the  impression  it  should  make.  Mr. 
Heinemann  published  it,  and  it  was  the  time  of  preparation 
for  press  that  drew  the  two  men  together,  ^^^^istler,  as  he 
alwaj's  said,  was  delighted  with  Heinemann's  artistic  instinct, 
sympathy,  enthusiasm,  and  quick  appreciation  of  his  intention. 
From  the  day  their  agreement  was  signed,  the  publisher 
entered  into  the  matter  with  all  his  heart.  'SMiistler's  fights 
were  his  fights.  Whistler's  victories  his  victories.  Whistler 
was  flattered  also  Avith  the  intuitive  understanding  he  found, 
and  drove  down  daily  almost  to  take  out  his  "  j^ublisher, 
philosopher  and  friend,"  as  he  described  Mr.  Heinemann,  to 
breakfast  at  the  Savoy.  He  arrived  at  eleven,  when  the  busi- 
ness man  had  hardly  got  into  the  swing  of  his  morning's  work, 
and  carried  him  off  whether  he  would  or  no.  Was  it  not 
preposterous  that  there  should  be  other  books  to  be  prepared  ? 
other  matters  to  be  thought  of  while  this  great  work  of  art 
was  being  born  ?  The  balcony  overlooking  the  Embankment 
was,  so  long  before  the  customary  London  hour,  deserted, 
and  there  they  could  go  over,  discuss,  change  and  arrange 
every  little  detail  without  interruption.  Hours  were  spent 
often  in  the  "  arranging  "  of  a  single  Butterfly,  and  usually 
"\Miistler  came  down  with  his  pockets  full  of  gay  and  fantastic 
entomological  drawings. 

AMiistler  was  constantly  at  the  Ballantyne  Press,  where  the 
book  was  printed.  He  chose  the  type,  he  spaced  the  text,  he 
placed  the  Butterflies,  each  of  which  he  designed  especially 
to  convey  a  special  meaning.  They  danced,  laughed,  mocked, 
stung,  defied,  triumphed,  drooped  wings  over  the  farthing 
damages,  spread  them  to  fly  across  the  Channel,  and  ex- 
pressed every  word  and  almost  every  thought.  He  designed 
the  title-page  ;  a  design  contrarj^  to  all  established  rules,  but 
io6  [1890 


"THE    GENTLE    ART" 

with  the  charm,  the  balance,  the  harmony,  the  touch  of  per- 
sonahty  he  gave  to  everything,  and  since  copied  and  prostituted 
by  foolish  imitators  who  had  no  conception  of  its  purpose. 
The  cover  was  in  the  now  inevitable  brown,  with  a  yellow 
back.  The  title,  though  attributed  to  Sheridan  Ford,  can 
be  traced  to  Whistler's  speech  at  the  Criterion  dinner,  and  to 
the  gentle  answer  that  turneth  not  away  wrath.  The 
dedication  is  :  "  To  the  rare  Few,  who,  early  in  Life,  have  rid 
Themselves  of  the  Friendship  of  the  Many,  these  pathetic 
Papers  are  inscribed." 

The  book  was  published  in  June  1890,  and  went  through 
several  editions.  First,  Messrs.  John  M.  Lovell  and  Co.,  and 
then  Messrs.  Putnam's  Sons,  taking  it  over  in  America.  It 
met  the  fate  of  all  his  works.  The  press  received  it  with  the 
usual  smile  at  Mr.  Whistler's  eccentricities,  and  here  and 
there  a  word  of  praise  and  appreciation  said  with  more  as- 
surance than  of  old.  To  the  multitude  of  readers,  it  was  a 
jest ;  to  a  "  saving  remnant,"  it  was  serious,  though  to  none 
more  serious  than  to  Whistler,  who  believed  it  would  live 
with  the  writings  of  Cennini  and  Cellini,  of  Diirer  and 
Leonardo,  of  Reynolds  and  Fromentin. 

The  book  is  really  an  artistic  autobiography.  \Vliistler 
gave  the  sub-title  Auto-Biographical  to  one  section,  he  might 
have  given  it  to  the  volume.  He  had  a  way,  half- 
laughing,  half-serious,  of  calling  it  his  Bible.  "  Well,  you 
know,  you  have  only  to  look  and  there  it  all  is  in  the  Bible," 
or  "  I  am  afraid  you  do  not  know  the  Bible  as  you  should," 
he  often  said  to  us  in  answer  to  some  question  about  his 
work  or  his  experiences  as  artist.  He  was  right ;  "  it  "  all 
is  there,  if  "  it  "  means  his  belief  in  art  and  his  steadfast 
adherence  to  this  belief.  The  trial,  the  pamphlets,  the 
letters,  the  catalogues  take  their  place  and  appear  in  their 
proper  relation  to  each  other  as  one  long  deliberate  sequence, 
instead  of  the  independent,  inconsequent  little  squibs  and 
isyo]  107 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

the  elaborate  bids  for  notoriety  they  were  supposed  to  be. 
The  Gentle  Art  may  be  read  with  pleasure  for  its  wit  alone. 
But  it  is  much  more  than  a  jest  book.  The  collection  begins 
with  the  reprint  of  the  Ruskin  trial,  which  was  his  brave 
effort  to  fight  the  battles  of  artists  against  critics,  though  few 
have  yet  grasped  the  fact  that  he  was  fighting  not  only  for 
himself  but  for  all  artists.  It  contains  his  two  serious  essays  : 
Whistler  v.  Ruskin,  Art  and  Art  Critics,  written  in  order  that 
the  meaning  of  the  trial  might  not  be  missed,  and  the  Ten 
o'clock,  first  delivered  as  a  lecture  in  order  that  the  dignity 
of  art  might  be  upheld.  The  several  shorter  Propositions 
are  included,  for  these  were  his  statements,  in  a  few  vigorous 
words,  of  the  technical  principles  upon  which  his  practice  as 
artist  was  based — upon  which  he  believed  all  art  practice 
should  be  based.  His  letters  were  gathered  together  because, 
light,  witty,  "  wicked,"  as  they  seemed,  many  were  records 
of  episodes  he  thought  important,  while  scarcely  one  is 
without  some  underlying  truth  he  wished  to  express  even  if 
it  remained  undiscovered  by  his  contemporaries  in  their 
conviction  of  his  levity.  Finally,  he  reprinted  the  Catalogue 
of  the  Exhibition  of  Etchings  at  the  Fine  Art  Society's  in 
1883  for  no  other  than  the  reason  already  set  forth  in  the 
motto,  "  Out  of  their  own  mouths  shall  ye  judge  them."  To 
this,  the  Catalogue  of  the  Goupil  Exhibition  of  1892  was 
added  in  the  third  edition  of  The  Gentle  Art,  which  he  helped 
to  prepare,  though  it  did  not  appear  until  after  his  death. 
His  object  was  to  expose  for  all  time  the  stupidity  and 
ridicule  which  he  was  obliged  to  face,  so  that  his  method  of 
defence  should  be  the  better  understood. 

The  book  makes  us  wonder  the  more  that  there  should  have 
been  necessity  for  defence,  so  simple  and  right  is  his  theory  of 
art,  so  sincere  and  reverent  his  attitude  as  artist.  We  have 
spoken  of  most  of  the  different  writings  as  they  appeared. 
The  collection  intensifies  the  effect  each  made  individually. 
loS  [i«90 


I 


■<  a 


o 

H 


a  = 


"THE    GENTLE    ART" 

Everything  he  wrote  had  the  same  end  :  to  show  that  art  is 
to  be  considered  and  respected  and  loved  as  art,  that  the 
artist's  sole  pre-occupation  is  with  beauty  and  the  means  of 
interpreting  it  with  his  brush,  his  pencil,  or  his  needle. 

"  Art  should  be  independent  of  all  clap- trap — should  stand 
alone,  and  appeal  to  the  artistic  sense  of  eye  or  ear,  without 
confounding  this  with  emotions  entirely  foreign  to  it,  as  devotion, 
pity,  love,  patriotism,  and  the  like.  All  these  have  no  kind  of 
concern  with  it  and  that  is  why  I  insist  on  calling  my  works 
'  arrangements  '  and  '  harmonies.'  " 

It  was  for  the  "  knowledge  of  a  life-time,"  his  work  was  to 
be  valued,  he  told  the  Attorney- General  in  court.  In  this 
paragraph,  and  in  this  answer,  you  have  the  key  to  The 
Gentle  Art.  Fault  may  be  found  with  argument ;  facts  and 
methods  may  be  challenged.  But  analysis,  description, 
technical  statement  and  explanation,  all  lead  to  the  one  great 
truth  of  the  independence  of  art  and  the  entire  devotion  the 
"  goddess  "  demands  of  her  disciples. 

It  would  seem  impossible  that  the  statement  of  a  simple 
truth  should  have  been  suspected  and  misjudged,  were  it  not 
remembered  that  art  in  England  depended  mostly  on  "  clap- 
trap "  when  Whistler  wrote,  and  that  his  manner  of  meeting 
suspicion  was  intended  to  bewilder  and  mystify.  He  took 
care  that  his  book  should  be  the  expression  not  only  of  his 
belief,  but  of  the  artlessness  of  the  prevailing  conception  of 
art,  the  tendency  to  confuse  it  with  morals,  or  sentiment,  or 
anecdote.  Stupidity  in  critics  and  public  hurt  him  as  much 
as  insincerity  in  artists,  and  when  confronted  with  it,  he  was 
jjitiless.  It  was  dulness  he  could  not  stand.  He  met  it  with 
what  he  called  "  joyousness  :  "  to  be  "  joyous  "  was  his 
philosophy  of  life  and  art,  "  where  all  is  fair,"  and  this  philo- 
sophy to  the  multitude  proved  an  enigma.  His  letters  to 
the  press  are  apt  to  be  dismissed  as  shrill,  cheap,  thin,  not 
worthy  a  great  artist,  still  un worthier  of  his  endeavour  to 
i«90]  109 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

immortalise  them.  It  is  true  that  he  might  more  wisely 
have  omitted  some  things  from  The  Gentle  Art.  It  was,  after 
all,  not  very  •nitty  at  the  time  when  he  bade  Oscar  Wilde 
put  off  "  the  combined  costumes  of  Kossuth  and  Mr.  Man- 
talini,"  and  the  wit  has  quite  evaporated  when  we  read  the 
light  jest  to-day.  And  so  it  is  with  some  of  his  chaffing  of 
'Arry  and  "the  Kangaroo,"  some  of  his  "spurring  on"  of 
"  the  serious  ones,"  though  it  should  be  added  that  his  lightest 
jests  told  and  that  the  names  and  ridicule  he  found  for  the 
"  Enemies  "  stuck  to  them  for  ever  after.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  ^\^listle^  thought  "  history  "  would  be  half-made,  if  he 
did  not  leave  on  record,  with  the  provocation  he  received,  his 
own  gaiety  of  retahation.  This  is  shown  by  the  fact  that, 
when  the  battle  was  won  and  recognition  came,  he  wrote  to 
Atlas  from  Paris :  "  we  '  collect  '  no  more,"  and  Mes- 
sieurs les  Ennemis  had  no  longer  to  fear  for  their  '  scalps.' 
Oftener  than  not,  however,  the  wit  is  delicately  polished  or 
cruel  in  its  sting.  We  have  already  quoted  the  letter  to 
Hamerton,  where  he  asks  if  "  this  wise  person  "  expected  a 
symphony  in  F  to  be  a  "  continued  repetition  of  F.F.F.  .  .  . 
Fool ! "  There  are  letters  still  more  bitter,  because  gayer 
on  the  surface,  to  Tom  Taylor,  as,  for  instance,  that  final 
disposing  of  him  : 

"  Why,  my  dear  old  Tom,  I  never  was  serious  v,-ith  you,  even 
when  you  were  among  us.  Indeed,  I  killed  you  quite,  as  who 
should  say,  ^^•ithout  seriousness,  '  A  rat  !  A  rat !  '  you  know, 
rather  cursorily." 

Almost  all  abound  in  witty  phrases,  such  as  his  description 
of  the  trial  as  an  "  Arrangement  in  Frith,  Jones,  Punch  and 
Ruskin,  with  a  touch  of  Titian,"  or  his  explanation  when, 
in  the  quotation  from  Mr.  Wedmore  given  in  his  catalogue, 
understand  was  printed  for  understate  :  "  with  Mr.  Wedmore, 
as  ■with  his  brethren,  it  is  always  a  matter  of  understating, 
and  not  at  all  one  of  understanding."  The  titles  for  his 
no  [1890 


"THE    GENTLE    ART" 

letters  are  as  witty  :    An  Apology  for  this  very  letter  in 

which  the  misprint  is  explained  so  pleasantly  to  Mr.  Wedmore, 

Early  Laurels,  for  the  letter  proclaiming  the  compliment 

of  hisses  paid  to  his  Nocturne  when  produced  at  the  Graham 

sale.     But  only  by  quoting  straight  through  the  book,  from 

cover  to  cover,  could  justice  be  done  to  the  quality  of  its  wit. 

Whistler's  wit,  like  his  more  serious  sayings,  told,  because 

he  had  the  power  of  expressing  himself  in  words,  which  is  so 

rare  with  artists  in  other  mediums.     He  could  write,  he  had 

style,  as  we  said  in  speaking  of  the  Te7i  o'Clock.     Literature, 

no   less   than   art,   was   to   him   a   "  dainty   goddess."     He 

rounded  out    his    shortest   letter,  as    carefully  as  a  portrait 

or  a  nocturne,  until  all   trace   of   labour  in  finishing  it  had 

disappeared.     This   was   one   reason   why  people,  awed  by 

the    spectacle    of    Ruskin    labouring    through    the    many 

volumes    of  Modern  Painters    without    succeeding    in    the 

end   in    saying   what   he    wanted,    could    not    believe   that 

Whistler  was  seriously  saying  anything  that  mattered  in  a 

few  pages  showing  no  sign  of  labour  at  all.     In  his  little  notes 

to  Truth  and  the  World,  as  in  the  Ten  o'Clock,  he  reveals  the 

influence  of  his  close  familiarity  with  the  Scriptures,  while 

his  use  of  French  phrases  which  displeased  his  critics,  his  odd 

references,  his  unexpected  quotations,  are  all  placed  with  the 

same  unerring  instinct  as  the  Butterfly  on  his  canvas.     He 

always  chose  the  right  word,  he  made  even  the  division  of 

paragraphs  effective,  punctuation  was  with  him  an  art  in 

itself.     It  is  difficult  to  give  examples,  because  there  is  so 

much  good  writing  in  The  Gentle  Art.      The  Ten  o' Clock  is 

full  of  passages  that  show  him  as  writer  at  his  best,  from  his 

account  of  the  creation  of  the  artist  to  his  summing  up  of 

the  beautiful,  none  finer  than  the  often-quoted  description 

of  London  "  when  the  evening  mist  clothes  the  riverside  with 

poetry,  as  with  a  veil."     The  Propositions  and  The\RedRag 

are  as  complete  within  their  limits,  as  simple  and  direct  in 

1890]  III 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

expression  as  his  prints.  The  book,  in  a  word,  has  literary 
charm  ;  as  a  serious  exposition  of  an  artist's  beUefs  and 
doctrines,  it  can  rank  with  Reynolds'  lectures  ;  as  a  chronicle 
of  an  artist's  adventures,  it  is  as  personal  and  characteristic 
in  its  way  as  the  Memoirs  of  Cellini. 

The  period  of  the  preparation  and  publication  of  The 
Gentle  Art  was  one  of  small,  unimportant  quarrels.  In  each 
case,  there  was  provocation.  Of  one  or  two,  so  much  was 
made  at  the  time,  that  they  cannot  be  ignored.  One,  in 
1888,  was  with  Mr.  Menpes,  who,  making  no  secret  of  it,  has 
recorded  its  various  stages  until  the  last,  when  the  Follower 
adapted  the  "  Master's  "  decorations  and  arrangements  to 
his  own  house.  His  Home  of  Taste  was  paragraphed  in  the 
papers,  and  Whistler  held  him  up  to  the  world's  ridicule  as 
"  the  Kangaroo  of  his  country,  born  with  a  pocket  and  putting 
everything  into  it."  The  affair  came  to  a  crisis  not  long  after 
the  Times'  Parnell  disclosures,  and  Whistler  wrote  to  him  : 

"  You  will  blow  your  brains  out,  of  course.  Pigott  has  shown 
you  what  to  do  under  the  circumstances,  and  you  know  your  way 
to  Spain.     Good-bye." 

Once  afterwards,  at  a  public  dinner.  Whistler  saw  Mr.  Menpes 
come  into  the  room  on  Mr.  Justin  McCarthy's  arm  :  "  Ha  ! 
ha  !  McCarthy,"  he  laughed  as  they  passed  him,  "  Ha  !  ha  ! 
You  should  be  careful.     You  know — Damien  died." 

In  1890,  Augustus  Moore,  brother  of  George,  never  a  fiiend, 
was  added  to  the  list  of  "  Enemies."  The  cause  was  an 
offensive  reference  to  Godwin,  Mrs.  Whistler's  first  husband, 
in  The  Hawk,  an  insignificant  sheet  IMoore  then  edited. 
Whistler,  knowing  that  he  would  find  him  at  any  first  night, 
went  to  Drury  Lane  for  the  "  autumn  production,"  and,  in 
the  foyer  hit  Moore  with  a  cane  across  the  face,  crying, 
"  Hawk  !  Hawk  !  "  There  was  a  scrimmage,  and  Whistler, 
as  the  man  who  attacked,  was  requested  to  leave  the  house. 
112  [1890 


"THE    GENTLE    ART" 

The  whole  thing  was  the  outcome  of  that  nice  sense  of  honour, 
that  feeUng  of  chivalry,  which  was  never  understood  in 
England,  though  even  there  it  would  have  been  found  mag- 
nificent in  the  days  of  duels.  The  comic  papers  made  great 
fun  of  the  episode,  and  the  "  serious  ones  "  lamented  the 
want  of  dignity  it  showed.  No  one  could  understand  the 
loyalty  that  was  carried  to  such  extremes  in  his  devotion  to 
the  woman  he  loved. 


1890]  n:H  113 


CHAPTER  XXXV.  THE  TURN  OF  THE 
TIDE.  THE  YEARS  EIGHTEEN  NINETY- 
ONE  TO  EIGHTEEN  NINETY-T^VO 

THE  world  owed  him  a  living,  Wliistler  always  said,  but 
it  was  not  xintil  1891  and  1892  that  the  world  began  to 
pay  off  the  debt.  The  battles,  of  which  The  Gentle  Art 
is  the  record,  were  over.  The  medals  and  decorations  of 
1888  and  1889  were  signs  of  the  change  which  began  with  the 
purchase  of  the  Carlyle  for  Glasgow,  and  The  Mother  for 
the  Luxembourg  in  1891. 

It  was  almost  twenty  years  since  Whistler  first  exhibited 
the  two  pictures,  and  they  were  still  his  property.  The  Car- 
lyle had  been  returned  to  him  from  the  Glasgow  Institute  in 
1888,  as  from  previous  exhibitions.  But  a  A'ounger  generation 
had  arisen  in  Scotland.  The  Glasgow  School  was  beginning  to 
be  heard  of  and  was  becoming  a  power.  Three  great  influences 
in  their  development  were,  according  to  their  own  profession, 
Wliistler,  the  Japanese,  and  William  M'Taggart,  and  the 
greatest  of  these  was  \Miistler.  Mr.  E.  A.  Walton  and  Mr. 
(now  Sir)  James  Guthrie  determined  to  secure  the  Carlyle  for 
Glasgow,  and  they  were  more  successful  than  Mr.  Halkett  had 
been  in  Edinburgh.  Mr.  Walton,  on  January  12,  1891,  wrote 
to  \Miistler,  that  he  was  prejiaring  a  petition  to  be  presented  to 
the  Glasgow  Corporation,  urging  the  purchase  of  the  Carlyle 
for  the  City  Gallery,  and  asking  if  it  was  still  for  sale.  It  was, 
WTiistler  answered  (January  19),  and  though  he  had  just 
been  approached  by  an  American,  he  would  reserve  the 
picture  for  Glasgow.  Mr.  Walton  then  wrote  asking  the 
114  [1891 


THE    TURN    OF    THE    TIDE 

price,  and  enclosing  a  copy  of  the  petition.  Whistler  an- 
swered (February  3)  that  he  was  honoured  and  flattered ; 
that  the  price  would  be,  as  in  1888,  one  thousand  guineas  ; 
that  he  was  pleased  to  find  the  names  of  Orchardson  and 
Gilbert  on  the  memorial,  which  was  signed  also  by  a  third 
Royal  Academician,  Millais,  and  a  long  list  of  Scotch  artists. 
The  appeal  to  the  Corporation  was  successful,  and  from 
Glasgow  came  the  first  public  recognition  of  Whistler's 
pictures  in  Great  Britain,  the  first  official  demand  for  one  of 
his  pictures  anywhere. 

\^^listler  was  prepared  by  the  Secretary  for  the  visit  of  a 
deputation  from  the  Council, 

"  I  received  them,  well,  you  know,  charmingly,  of  course.  And 
one  who  spoke  for  the  rest  asked  me  if  I  did  not  think  I  was  put- 
ting a  large  price  on  the  picture — one  tliousand  guineas.  And  I 
said,  '  Yes,  perhaps,  if  you  will  have  it  so  ! '  And  he  said  that  it 
seemed  to  the  Council  excessive ;  why,  the  figure  was  not  even 
life-size.  And  I  agreed.  '  But,  you  know,'  I  said,  '  few  men  are 
hfe-size.'  And  tliat  was  aU.  It  was  an  official  occasion,  and  I 
respected  it.  Then  they  asked  me  to  think  over  the  matter  until 
the  next  day,  and  they  would  come  again.  And  they  came.  And 
they  said,  '  Have  you  thought  of  the  tliousand  guineas  and  wliat 
we  said  about  it,  IVIr.  Wliistler  ?  '  And  I  said,  '  Why,  gentlemen, 
why — weU,  you  know,  how  could  I  think  of  anything  but  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you  again  ?  '  And  naturally,  being  gentlemen, 
they  understood,  and  they  gave  me  a  cheque  for  the  thousand 
guineas." 

What  Whistler  thought  of  the  "  life-size  "  portrait,  he  had 
first  told  the  public  through  Mr.  Walter  Dowdeswell  four 
years  before  (1887) : 

"  No  man  alive  is  life-size  except  the  recruit  who  is  being 
measured  as  he  enters  the  regiment,  and  then  the  only  man  who 
sees  him  life-size  is  the  sergeant  who  measures  hiniv^and  aU  that 
he  sees  of  him  is  the  end  of  his  nose  ;  when  he  is  able  to  see  his 
toes,  the  man  ceases  to  be  life-size."  ,,  ^.^ 

1891]  '  115 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

Before  the  Carlyle  went  to  Glasgow,  VV'histler  wished  to 
show  it  in  London,  where,  except  in  Queen  Square,  it  had  not 
been  seen  since  the  Grosvenor  Exhibition  of  1877,  and  it  was 
exhibited  at  the  Goupil  Gallery. 

Mr.  D.  Croal  Thomson,  recognising  that  "  the  turning-point 
was  approaching,"  suggested  offering  the  portrait  of  The 
Mother  to  the  Luxembourg.  In  Paris,  as  well  as  in  London, 
there  was  a  sudden  curiosity  and  even  a  first  beginning  of  a 
general  appreciation  of  his  work,  which  the  last  nine  j^ears 
had  made  much  better  known  there.  For,  since  1882,  he  had 
shown  at  the  Salon  one  after  another  of  his  great  portraits : 
Lady  Meux,  The  Mother,  Carlyle,  Miss  Alexander,  The  Yellow 
Buskin,  M.  Buret,  Sarasaie.  Then  followed  the  Rosa  Carder 
in  the  new  Salon,  formed  by  the  Societe  Nationale  des  Beaux- 
Arts — a  secession  really  from  the  old  Salon  of  the  Societe  des 
Artistes  Francais — where  he  appeared  for  the  first  time  as 
Societaire  in  1891,  though  Mr.  Sargent  and  other  Americans 
were  made  members  in  1890.  To  the  small  distinguished 
International  Exhibitions  held  in  the  Petit  Gallery,  he  had 
been  contributing  many  of  his  smaller  works  in  every  medium. 
The  French  were  thus  given  the  opportunitj^  to  see  and  judge 
and  they  did  not  misuse  it.  At  Mr.  Croal  Thomson's  sug- 
gestion. The  Mother  was  then  sent  to  Messrs.  Boussod  Valadon 
in  Paris,  and  subscriptions  for  the  purchase  were  opened.  But 
before  any  amount  worth  mentioning  was  subscribed,  the 
French  Government,  on  the  advice  of  M.  Roger  Marx,  bought 
it  for  the  nation.  M.  Bourgeois,  the  Minister  of  Fine  Arts, 
had  some  doubt  as  to  the  possibility  of  offering  for  so  fine 
a  masterpiece  the  small  price  that  the  nation  could  afford. 
But  Whistler  at  once  set  him  at  ease  on  this  point,  writing  to 
him  that,  of  all  his  pictures,  he  would  prefer  for  The  Mother  so 
"  solemn  a  consecration,"  and  that  he  was  proud  of  the  honour 
France  had  shown  him.  The  price  actually  paid  by  the  French 
nation  was  four  thousand  francs,  but  it  is  almost  unnecessary 
ii6  [1891 


a 


THE    TURN    OF    THE    TIDE 

to  record  that  Whistler's  pleasure,  as  he  expressed  it  to  Mr. 
Alan  S.  Cole  at  the  time,  November  14,  1891,  was  in  the 
fact  of  "  his  painting  of  his  mother  being  '  unprecedently  ' 
chosen  by  the  Minister  of  Beaux-Arts  for  the  Luxembourg." 
France,  however,  in  that  year,  made  vip  for  the  meagre  price 
it  paid  by  bestowing  upon  Whistler  an  honour  he  valued 
higher  than  almost  any  he  ever  received,  and  making  him 
Officer  of  the  Legion  of  Honour. 

The  event  was  celebrated  by  a  reception  at  the  Chelsea  Arts 
Club  on  the  evening  of  December  19,  1891.  Whistler  was 
presented  with  a  parchment  of  greetings,  signed  by  a  hundred 
members,  as 

"  a  record  of  their  high  appreciation  of  the  distinguislied  honour 
that  has  come  to  him  by  the  placing  of  his  mother's  portrait  in 
the  national  collection  of  France." 

Whistler's  speech  in  acknowledgment  was  characteristic. 
He  was  gratified  by  this  token  from  his  brother  artists : 

"  It  is  right  at  such  a  time  of  peace,  after  the  struggle,  to 
bury  the  hatchet — in  the  side  of  the  enemy — and  leave  it  there. 
The  congratulations  usher  in  the  beginning  of  my  career,  for  an 
artist's  career  always  begins  to-morrow." 

He  promised  to  be  for  long  one  of  the  Chelsea  artists — a 
promise  Chelsea  artists  showed  no  special  desire  to  keep  him 
to.  He  was  a  member  of  the  club  for  a  few  years,  until  he 
went  to  Paris.  When,  later,  Mr.  Lavery  proposed  him  as  an 
Honorary  Member,  there  was  not  enough  enthusiasm  to 
carry  the  motion. 

Early  in  1892,  Mr.  D.  Croal  Thomson,  who  has  sent  us  the 
following  account,  arranged  with  Whistler  for  an  exhibition 
of  Nocturnes,  Marines  and  Chevalet  Pieces  at  the  Goupil 
Gallery  in  London,  or,  as  Whistler  called  it,  "  my  heroic  kick 
in  Bond  Street." 

"  I  met  Mr.  Whistler  in  1880,  and  from  the  first  I  seemed  to 

be   in   complete   sympathy   with    him.     That   he   returned  this 

1«.<)2]  117 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

sentiment  is  very  likely,  for  in  aU  the  succeeding  twenty-five 
years,  wliile  having  many  and  important  business  affairs  together, 
we  never  had  any  serious  discussions  or  disputes  over  anything. 

"  I  became  convinced  that  all  Mj.  Whistler's  quarrels  originated 
because  the  person  concerned  did  not  correctly  understand  and 
appreciate  liis  work  ;  once  Mr.  Wiistler  became  assured  of  living 
sympathy  in  his  productions,  my  experience  was  that  he  \\as  ready 
to  accept  all  the  rest.  He  knew  that  I  had  studied  drawing  and 
painting,  and  some  nocturnes  that  I  had  made  at  the  end  of  the 
'seventies,  before  I  had  met  him,  were  the  source  of  some  interesting 
and  good-humourd  chaff  from  him.  In  any  case,  these  feeble 
efforts  convinced  him  of  my  ability  to  understand,  and  my  loyalty 
to  liim  was  never  challenged  in  his  lifetime. 

"  There  is  no  doubt  that  Mr.  WTiistler  was  deeply  touched  and 
flattered  by  the  acquisition  in  1891  of  Carlyle's  portrait  by  the 
Glasgow  Corporation. 

"  At  that  time  I  was  director  of  the  Goupil  Gallery  at  117  New 
Bond  Street.  I  had  not  up  to  this  date  had  any  business  trans- 
actions ^^^th  Mr.  ^^^listIer,  and  he  knew  me  only  as  a  pronounced 
admirer  of  his  art. 

"  I  do  not  know  if  the  painter  had  been  anywhere  else  on  the 
same  errand,  but  I  do  know  that  he  called  on  me  on  his  own 
initiative  to  tell  me  that  the  Carhjle  was  going  to  Glasgow,  and  to 
say  that  he  would  like  to  exhibit  the  picture  in  London  before  it 
went  to  Scotland. 

"  I  expressed  the  pleasure  the  news  gave  me,  for  although  I 
had  heard  rumours  of  the  affair,  I  was  not  in  touch  with  its  pro- 
gress— the  artist's  intimation  was  the  first  direct  information  I  had 
of  its  conclusion.  Mr.  Whistler  repeated  that  he  would  like  the 
portrait  to  be  well  seen  in  London,  and  I  immediately  offered  to 
show  it  for  him.  I  said  to  him,  '  I  will  not  only  show  the  picture, 
but  give  it  a  room  all  to  itself,  and  make  it  a  shrine.'  There  was 
no  need  to  say  anything  more  ;  Mr.  Whistler  understood  what  I 
meant,  and  he  trusted  me  for  the  rest. 

"  Soon  after  the  picture  was  brought  to  the  Gallery  and  installed 
in  a  small  salon,  nothing  else  being  hung  in  the  room.  Public 
intimation  was  given  that  tlie  picture  was  on  view  without  charge ; 
many  people  visited  the  Gallery,  and,  as  I  said  to  Mr.  Whistler  and 
his  wife  when  they  called  at  the  end  of  the  show,  most  of  them 
came  with  a  smile  but  many  went  away  with  the  grave  look  which 
betokened  deep  thought.  And  a  few,  not  a  large  number  in  these 
ii8  [1892 


THE    TURN    OF    THE    TIDE 

days,  seemed  to  understand  how  great  a  masterpiece  they  had 
been  privileged  to  examine. 

"  Mr.  ^^liistler  came  to  thank  my  principals  and  me  for  lending 
the  Gallery,  for  our  artist  was  always  most  punctilious  in  such 
courtesies,  and  it  was  at  this  interview,  there  and  then,  in  the 
Goupil  Gallery,  that  the  first  idea  of  The  Mother  going  to  the 
Luxembourg  was  suggested. 

"  TeUing  the  painter  and  his  wife  of  my  observation  of  our 
visitors  and  of  the  indications  of  change  I  had  so  readily  remarked, 
I  said  to  him  that  the  time  had  at  length  arrived  when  some 
strong  action  should  be  energetically  set  in  force  to  capture  the 
public  estimation,  if  necessary  by  storm,  and  place  the  '  master,' 
as  we  had  begun  to  call  him,  in  the  niche  we  all  beheved  he  would 
certainly  occupy  sooner  or  later.  It  was  only  a  question  of 
hastening  the  fulfilment  of  this  that  prompted  my  own  thought, 
for  I  knew  well,  and  still  think,  that  nothing  I,  or  any  one  else, 
could  do  would  affect  the  ultimate  verdict,  but  I  did  think  it  was 
possible  to  obtain  this  more  quickly,  and  what  was  principally  in 
vny  mind,  was  to  realise  the  result  during  the  life-time  of  the 
painter. 

"  So  I  proposed  to  Mr.  Wliistler  to  sell  The  Mother  to  the 
National  Gallery,  or  the  Luxembourg. 

"Then  we  set  to  and  discussed  the  whole  position,  Mr.  Whistler 
saying  that  he  preferred  the  Luxembourg,  for  he  considered  the 
French  Gallery  more  sjmipathetic  and  the  French  people  more 
appreciative.  The  welcome  with  which  the  proposition  was 
received  in  Paris  was  certainly  one  of  the  reasons  which  made  Mr. 
Whistler,  even  when  living  in  England  and  receiving  more  of  his 
inspiration  therein,  aver  that  he  preferred  the  French  to  the 
English  people. 

"  Mr.  Wliistler  left  the  matter  in  my  hands  for  the  time,  and 
I  began  a  lively  correspondence  with  my  friends  in  Paris.  My 
connection  with  the  house  of  Goupil  led  me  to  write  to  a  member 
of  that  firm,  and  I  chose  M.  Joyant  as  the  one  most  likely  to  be 
sympathetic.  I  was  not  mistaken,  for  M.  Joyant — who  since  then 
has  become  a  partner  in  Goupil's  successors — took  up  the  idea 
with  whole-hearted  ardour.  .  .  . 

"  The  whole  affair  was  peculiarly  agreeable  to  Mr.  Whistler,  and 

he  made  no  concealment  of  his  satisfaction,  and  for  about  the  only 

time  in  his  life,  so  far  as  I  know  it,  he  openly  rejoiced.  .  .  . 

"  When  the  opportunity  arose,  very  soon  after,  I  again  urged 

1892]  119 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

'Sli.  Whistler  to  '  rub  it  in,'  and  go  a  step  further  towards  attaining 
immediate  favour,  and  not  let  the  matter  rest  until  it  became  too 
late.  I  said  to  him,  speaking,  of  course,  strictly  from  mj-  own 
point  of  view,  which  after  all  was  the  one  which  put  me  closely  in 
touch  with  the  artist, '  Your  etchings  are  knowTi  to  every  collector, 
your  pastels  have  been  exploited  already  in  Bond  Street,  while 
your  other  works  in  Hthografjliy  and  water-colour  will  never 
command  large  enough  markets  to  satisfy  me  and  my  Gallery, 
therefore  there  only  remain  your  pictures  in  oil.  I  have  found 
some  success  in  showing  the  Carlyle,  I  have  helped  you  towards 
placing  The  Mother  in  the  Luxembourg  ;  let  us  now  gather 
together  your  paintings  and  make  a  very  big  splash. 

"  JVIr.  \ATiistler  said  very  little,  but  I  immediately  ascertained 
that  the  proposal  was  completely  acceptable  to  him.  My  thought 
was  only  to  have  his  figure  pictures,  and  at  first  I  did  not  realise 
there  were  more  than  would  fill  one  salon  ;  but  one  day  Mr. 
^Vhistler  brought  a  list  and  said  that  the  exhibition  must  embrace 
all  his  works  in  oil — Nocturnes,  Symphonies,  together  -^-ith  the 
Figures  and  Portraits  which  I  had  suggested,  both  old  and  new. 
It  was  a  much  larger  scheme  than  I  had  projected,  and  from  the 
length  of  the  Ust  and  the  importance  of  the  pictures,  I  foresaw 
what  a  splendid  opportunity  the  artist  was  laying  before  me,  and 
I  almost  gasped  with  dehght. 

"  It  was  common  talk  in  those  days  that  Mr.  Wliistler  was  a 
difficult  man  to  get  on  with  in  the  ordinary  concerns  of  life,  and 
I  was  not  prepared  for  this  complete  realisation  of  my  wishes.  I 
had  thought  it  likely  that  the  artist  would  let  me  have  my  own 
way  to  some  extent  because  of  the  immediately  preceding  incident, 
but  I  never  counted  on  securing  his  whole-hearted  support,  far 
less  on  receiving  his  proposal  for  a  much  larger  scheme,  covering 
the  whole  of  the  artist's  labours  in  the  most  permanent  medium. 

■'  But  the  event  showed  how  Uttle  I  knew  the  man ;  whereas 
up  to  tliis  time  I  had  believed  I  \^  as  promoting  schemes  with  Mr. 
"RTiistler  which  he  approved  with  a  certain  aloofness,  I  now 
realised  I  was  only  like  the  fly  on  the  wheel,  and  that  the  artist 
was  himself  setting  the  whole  machinery  in  motion,  and  that  this 
machinery  was  vaster  and  more  world-moving  than  anything  I  had 
ever  had  to  do  with  hitherto. 

"  ^I'.'.  ■\niistler  laboured  almost  night  and  day  ;  he  wrote  letters 

to  every  one  of  the  o^vners  of  his  works  in  oil  asking  loans  of  the 

pictures.    Some,  like  Mr.  Alexander,  and  all  the  lonides  connection 

120  [1892 


OLD  BATTERSRA  I5RIDGK 

liroirn  and  Silver 


THE    TURN    OF    THE    TIDE 

acceded  at  once,  but  others  made  delays,  and  even  to  the  end 
several  owners  absolutely  declined  to  lend.  On  the  whole,  how- 
ever, the  artist  was  thoroughly  well  supported  by  his  early  patrons, 
and  the  result  was  a  gathering  together  of  the  most  complete 
collection  of  Mr.  Whistler's  best  works  in  art.  Even  the  re- 
markable Memorial  Exhibition  of  1903  was  not  finer,  and  London 
\   was  taken  by  storm. 

"  Mr.  Whistler  was  not  present  at  the  Private  View.  He  knew 
that  many  people  would  expect  to  see  him  and  talk  enthusiastic 
nonsense,  and  he  rightly  decided  he  was  better  to  be  away,  and  I 
was  left  alone  to  receive  the  visitors.  Some  hundreds  of  cards 
of  invitation  were  issued,  and  it  reaUy  seemed  as  if  every  recipient 
had  accepted  the  call.  Literally,  crowds  thronged  the  galleries 
all  day,  and  it  is  quite  impossible  to  describe  the  excitement  pro- 
duced. I  do  not  know  how  it  fared  ^v■itll  the  artist  and^his  wife 
during  the  day,  but  about  five  o'clock  in  the  evening  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Whistler  came  in,  though  they  would  not  enter  the  exhibition — they 
remained  in  a  curtained-off  portion  of  the  Gallery  near  the  entrance. 
One  or  two  of  their  most  intimate  friends  were  informed  by  me 
of  the  presence  of  the  painter,  and  a  small  reception  was  held,  for 
a  little  while,  but  of  course  by  that  time  the  battle  was  over  and 
won,  and  there  were  only  congratulations  to  be  rendered  to  the 
master.  The  previous  day,  March  18,  1892,  the  critics  had  the 
place  to  themselves,  and  several  stayed  practically  all^day  long. 

"  The  arrangement  of  the  pictures  was  entirely  in  Mr.  Whistler's 
own  hands,  for  although  it  had  been  arranged  that  several  young 
artists  should  come  to  the  Gallery  the  evening  the  works  were  to 
be  hung,  through  some  mischance  they  did  not  arrive,  and  I  was 
therefore  left  alone  with  Mr.  Whistler,  and  received  a  great  lesson 
in  the  art  of  arranging  a  collection. 

"  As  hours  went  on  and  the  workmen  required  a  rest,  I  sent 
for  some  refreshments,  which  happened  to  be  exactly  to  the 
liking  of  the  artist,  although  at  the  moment  I  did  not  realise  how 
much  satisfaction  I  was  giving  to  him  in  this  trifling  attention  ; 
but  next  day  Whistler  told  his  young  friends  how  much  they  had 
missed,  and  what  a  splendid  and  exciting  evening  we  had  had  in 
hanging  the  forty-three  pictures  of  the  collection. 

"  The  success  of  the  exhibition  was  so  great  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  do  anything  but,  as  it  were,  shepherd  the  visitors  in 
and  out  as  rapidly  as  the  attendants  could.  fter  the  first  two 
days  we  saw  it  was  impossible  for  the  serious  people  to  examine 
1892]  121 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

the  pictures  in  quietness,  and  we  decided  to  make  Friday  a  lialf- 
cro'wn  day.  The  fashionable  world  took  to  this  idea.  On  the 
other  days  policemen  had  to  be  requisitioned  to  keep  order  at  the 
door,  and  in  the  afternoons  the  crush  made  it  almost  impossible 
to  see  the  pictures. 

"  Another  AAHiistlerian  touch  was  given  to  the  exhibition  by  its 
being  announced  that  artists  would  be  admitted  free  every  morning 
up  to  eleven  o'clock,  and  many  dozens  took  advantage  of  this 
privilege,  which  formed  the  basis  of  a  clever  dra^Wng  in  Punch  by 
]Mr.  Bernard  Partridge.  At  first  the  exhibition  was  to  be  opened  for 
a  fortnight,  but  Mr.  ^Miistler  wrote  to  most  of  the  owners  of  the 
pictures  and  obtained  permission  to  extend  it  another  week.  The 
last  day  the  exhibition  was  open  was  a  record,  and  there  were 
nearly  two  thousand  visitors  to  the  rooms.  The  catalogue,  of 
which  thousands  were  sold,  was  itself  remarkable,  and  the  sale  of 
these  was  entirely  jMr.  Whistler's  own  property. 

"  I  do  not  think  I  am  exaggerating  when  I  say  that  this  col- 
lection marked  a  revolution  in  the  public  feeling  towards  \ATiistler. 
His  artistic  powers  were  hitherto  disputed  on  every  hand,  but 
when  it  was  possible  for  lovers  of  art  to  see  for  themselves  what 
the  painter  had  accomplished,  the  whole  position  was  changed. 
I  vnW  be  pardoned,  I  hope,  in  stating  that  whereas  up  to  that 
time  the  pictures  of  Mr.  'Whistler  commanded  only  a  small  sum 
of  money,  after  the  exhibition  a  great  number  of  connoisseurs 
desired  to  acquire  his  works,  and  therefore  their  money  value 
immediately  increased. 

"  In  the  Goupil  collection  all  the  pictures  were  contributed  by 
private  O'miers,  and  none  were  oSered  for  sale.  I  maj*  say  in 
passing,  that  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  crowds  of  visitiors  were  so 
great  that  no  transaction  of  any  serious  kind  was  carried  through 
in  the  Gallery  between  the  hanging  of  the  pictures  and  their  dis- 
persal— that  is,  for  nearly  five  weeks  there  was  practically  no 
record  of  business. 

"  But  the  exliibition  altered  all  this,  and  it  is  revealing  no  secrets 
to  say  that  ^^-ithin  a  5-ear  after  the  exhibition  was  closed,  I  had 
aided  in  the  transfer  of  more  than  one-half  of  the  pictures  from 
their  first  owners.  So  much  so  was  this  the  case  that  Mr.  Wbistler 
to  whom  I  always  referred  before  concluding  any  transaction,  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  there  was  hardly  a  holder  of  his  pictures  in 
England  but  who  would  sell  when  tempted  by  a  large  price. 
It  may  be  that  these  owners  had  become  affected  by  the  continual 
122  [1S92 


THE    TURN    OF    THE    TIDE 

misunderstanding  and  abuse  of  Mr.  Wliistler's  works,  and  that 
when  they  were  offered  double  or  three  times  the  sum  for  which 
they  had  asked  their  pictures  to  be  insured,  they  thought  they 
had  better  take  advantage  of  the  enthusiasm  of  the  moment. 
They  did  not  reaUse  that  this  enthusiasm  would  continue  to 
enlarge,  and  that  what  seemed  to  them  as  original  purchasers 
of  the  pictures  to  be  a  great  price  is  only  about  one-fourth  of 
their  present  money  value. 

"  It  was  the  artist's  wish  that  a  similar  exhibition  should  be 
held  in  Paris,  but  the  project  fell  through,  and  from  more  recent 
experience  it  would  appear  as  if  the  London  public  sometimes  so 
severely  scoffed  at  by  ilr.  \^^listler,  was  really  more  appreciative 
than  the  Parisian  public  and,  therefore,  perhaps  after  all  more 
intelligent." 


1892]  123 


CHAPTER  XXXVI.  THE  TURN  OF  THE 
TIDE.  THE  YEARS  EIGHTEEN  NINETY-ONE 
TO  EIGHTEEN  NINETY-TWO  CONTINUED 

ONE  reason  of  the  success  of  the  exhibition  of  1892, 
which  surprised  not  only  Mr.  Croal  Thomson  but  all 
London,  was  Whistler's  care,  when  selecting  his  pictures, 
to  secure  as  great  variety  as  possible.  The  collection  was  a 
magnificent  refutation  of  everything  that  the  critics  had  been 
saying  about  him  for  years.  They  dismissed  his  pictures  as 
mere  sketches,  and  he  confronted  them  with  The  Blue  Wave, 
Broivn  and  Silver:  Old  Baitersea  Bridge,  The  Music  Boom, 
which  had  not  been  seen  in  London  since  the  early  'sixties. 
They  objected  to  his  want  of  finish  and  slovenliness  in  detail, 
and  his  answer  was  the  Japanese  pictures,  full  of  an  elaboration 
of  detail  the  Pre-Raphaelites  never  equalled,  and  finished 
with  an  exquisiteness  of  surface  they  never  attempted.  He 
was  told  that  he  could  not  draw,  and  he  produced  a  group  of 
his  finest  portraits  ;  he  was  assured  that  he  had  no  poetic 
feeling,  no  imagination,  and  he  displayed  the  paintings  of 
the  Thames,  with  the  sordid  factories  and  chimnej^s  on  its 
banks  transformed  into  a  fairj^land  in  the  night.  He  was  as 
careful  in  arranging  the  manner  in  which  the  pictures  should 
be  presented.  His  letters  to  Mr.  Croal  Thomson  from  Paris, 
where  he  was  spending  the  greater  part  of  1892,  were  minute 
in  his  directions  for  cleaning  and  varnishing  the  paintings, 
and  putting  them  into  new  frames  of  his  own  design.  Indeed, 
the  correspondence  on  the  subject  is,  in  every  particular,  a 
miracle  of  thoughtfulness,  energy  and  method.  In  the  face 
124  [1892 


3  1 
3  ? 


THE    TURN    OF    THE    TIDE 

of  so  complete  a  collection,  in  such  perfect  condition  and  so 
well-hung,  criticism  was  silenced.  We  remember  the  press 
view,  and  the  dismay  of  the  older  critics  who  hoped  for 
another  "  crop  of  little  jokes,"  and  the  triumph  of  the  younger 
critics  who  knew  that  Whistler,  at  last,  had  won  the  day. 
The  papers,  daily,  weekly  and  monthljr,  almost  unanimously 
admitted  that  the  old  game  of  ridicule  was  played  out  and 
praised  the  exhibition  without  reserve.  When  Whistler 
found  that  the  approval  of  the  public  was  no  less  unanimous, 
he  was  heard  to  say  that  even  Academicians  had  been  seen 
prowling  about  the  place  lost  in  admiration,  that  it  needed 
only  to  send  a  season  ticket  to  Ruskin  to  make  the  situation 
perfect  and  that, 

"  Well  you  know,  they  were  always  pearls  I  cast  before  them, 
and  the  people  were  always — well,  the  same  people." 

WTiistler  first  intended  to  print  the  catalogue  without  any 
comment  or  quotation  from  the  press.  But  the  occasion 
to  expose  the  futility  of  criticism,  was  too  good  to  miss,  and 
choice  extracts  were  placed  under  the  titles  of  the  pictures. 
Catalogue  and  extracts  are  embodied  in  the  latest  edition  of 
The  Gentle  Art,  and  though  some  of  the  points  may  now  have 
lost  their  effect,  they  did  not  fail  to  rouse  the  public  of  the 
moment  and  enrage  the  critics,  for  big  and  little,  he  pilloried 
them  all.  It  was  cruel,  but  who  among  them  had  ever 
spared  him  ?  The  sub-title.  The  Voice  of  a  People,  exjDlains 
his  object  in  publishing  the  quotations,  and  the  climax  of  his 
"  wickedness  "  was  the  addition  of  an  epilogue  in  the  shape  of 
an  announcement,  from  the  Chronique  des  Beaux-Arts,  of  the 
purchase  of  The  Mother  for  the'Xuxembourg  and  its  reception 
in  France  as  a  picture  destined  to  rank  with  the  work  of 
Rembrandt,  Titian,  and  Velasquez.  The  catalogue  was,  as 
usual,  bound  in  brown  paper,  and  it  received  the  same  at- 
tention he  gave  to  every  detail  of  the  exhibition.  Because 
1892]  125 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

the  order  of  the  quotations  did  not  please  him  in  the  first 
edition,  two  hundred  and  fifty  copies  were  destroyed  on 
press  day  and  the  critics  kept  waiting  until  half-past  four  in 
the  afternoon.  Another  touch  of  "  wickedness  "  was  his 
perpetuating  in  The  Gentle  Art  a  printer's  error  in  the  second 
edition,  by  which  "  Kindly  lent  by  their  Owners  "  became 
"  Kindly  Lent  their  Owners."  Five  editions  in  all  were 
printed. 

Before  the  show  was  closed,  the  pictures  were  all  photo- 
graphed, and  afterwards  published  in  a  portfoho.  He  de- 
signed the  cover  in  the  brown  and  yellow  of  The  Gentle  Art. 
There  were  a  hundred  sets,  each  photograph  signed  by 
Whistler,  published  at  six  guineas,  and  two  hundred  unsigned 
at  four  guineas. 

An  immediate  result  of  the  exliibition  was  that  purchasers 
and  sitters  now  came  in  numbers.  One  of  the  first  to  approach 
him  was  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  who  gave  him  a  com- 
mission for  a  portrait  and  asked  him  and  Mrs.  WTiistler  to 
Blenheim  for  the  autumn.  Whistler  wrote  the  Duke  one  of 
his  "  charming  letters,"  and  then  heard  of  his  sudden  death, 
and,  he  told  us, 

"  Now  I  shall  never  know  whether  my  letter  killed  him,  or 
whether  he  died  before  he  got  it. — Well,  they  all  want  to  be 
painted  because  of  these  pictures,  but  why  wouldn't  they  be 
painted  years  ago,  when  I  wanted  to  paint  them  ?  and  could 
have  painted  them  just  as  well  ?  "        \  ,^. 

He  was  besieged  by  Americans,  who  were  determined  "  to 
pour  California  into  his  lap  :  "  a  determination  to  which  he 
had  no  objection.  His  pockets  should  be  always  full,  or  his 
golden  eggs  were  addled.  He  thought  it  would  be  "  amazing 
fun  "  to  be  rich.  Once,  driving  with  Mr.  Sidney  Starr,  he 
said  : 

"  Starr,  I  have  not  dined,  as  you  know,  so  you  need  not  think 

I  say  this  in  any  but  a  cold  and  careful  spirit ;  it  is  better  to  live  on 
126  [1892 


IHK  I  AST  OF  OI.l)  VVKSTMINSTEH 


THE    TURN    OF    THE    TIDE 

bread  and  cheese  and  paint  beautiful  things,  than  to  live  like 
Dives  and  paint  pot-boilers.  But  a  painter  really  should  not 
have  to  worry  about — '  various,'  you  know.  Poverty  may 
induce  industry,  but  it  does  not  produce  the  fine  flower  of  paint- 
ing. The  test  is  not  poverty,  it's  money.  Give  a  painter  money 
and  see  what  he'll  do  ;  if  he  does  not  paint,  his  work  is  well  lost 
to  the  world.  If  I  had  had — say,  three  thousand  pounds  a  year 
what  beautiful  things  I  could  have  done." 

.  Nothing  marked  the  difference  in  the  public's  estimation 
of  him  more  than  the  increasing  and  eager  demand  for  his 
earlier  pictures  which  had  been  scorned  not  so  very  long  ago. 
Never,  at  any  time,  did  so  many  change  hands  as  during  the 
next  two  or  three  years,  and  always  at  immensely  higher 
prices.  To  an  American,  he  sold  The  Falling  Rocket,  the 
subject  of  the  trial,  for  eight  hundred  guineas,  and  only 
wished  that  Ruskin  could  know  that  it  had  been  valued  at 
"  four  pots  of  paint :  "  two  hundred  guineas  having  been  the 
original  price  objected  to  by  Ruskin.  The  Leyland  sale. 
May  28,  1892,  brought  the  Princesse  dii  Pays  de  la  Porcelaine 
and  smaller  works  into  the  auction  room,  and,  though  the 
Princesse  fetched  only  four  hundred  and  twenty  guineas,  this 
was  four  times  as  much  as  Whistler  had  received  for  it.  What 
would  he  have  said  to  the  five  thousand  guineas  Mr.  Freer 
paid  for  it  within  a  year  of  his  death  ?  The  sixty  or  eighty 
pounds  Mr.  Leathart  had  paid  Whistler  for  the  Lange  Leizen 
increased  to  six  or  eight  hundred  when  he  sold  it.  Mr.  lonides 
had  bought  Sea  and  Rain  for  twenty  or  thirty  pounds,  and 
now  asked  three  hundred.  Fifty  pounds,  the  price  of  the 
Blue  Wave  when  Mr.  Gerald  Potter  had  it  from  Whistler, 
multiplied  to  a  thousand  when  it  was  his  turn  to  dispose  of  it. 
Fourteen  hundred  poimds  was  given  by  Mr.  Studd  for  The 
Little  White  Girl  and  a  Nocturne,  the  two  having  cost  Mr. 
Potter  about  one  hundred  and  eighty  pounds,  and  we  have 
been  told  that  Mr.  Studd  was  recently  offered  six  thousand 
pounds  for  The  Little  White  G/ri  alone.  ^^Whistler  resented  it, 
1892]  127 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

not  unnaturally,  when  he  found  that  fortunes  were  being 
made  "  at  his  expense  "  by  so-called  friends,  and  he  com- 
plained that  they  were  turning  his  reputation  into  pounds, 
shillings  and  pence,  travelling  over  Europe  and  holiday- 
making  on  the  profits.  He  went  even  to  the  extent  of  sug- 
gesting that  a  work  of  art,  when  sold,  should  still  remain  the 
artist's  property,  that  it  was  only  "  lent  its  owner."  It  was 
now  his  frequent  demand  to  owners,  and  condition  to  pur- 
chasers, that  his  pictures  should  be  available  for  exhibition 
when  and  where  and  as  often  as  he  pleased.  Tlus  is  illus- 
trated in  the  following  letter  which  Mr.  H.  S.  Theobald,  K.C., 
writes  us  : 

"  .  .  .  .  \'\Tii?tler's  work  was  one  of  my  early  admirations, 
and  my  admiration  of  it  steadily  grew.  About  1870  I  began 
to  get  such  of  liis  etchings  as  I  could,  and  somewhere  early  in  the 
'eighties,  I  think  it  was,  I  became  the  fortunate  possessor  of  some 
thirty  or  forty  drawings  and  pastels  through  the  DowdesweUs. 
Whistler  became  aware  of  my  ownership  of  these,  and  they  some- 
times brought  him  to  my  house,  which  was  then  in  a  remote  spot 
called  West  bourne  Square.  The  pictures,  owing  to  stress  of  space 
hung  mostly  on  the  staircase,  and  Whistler  would  stand  in  rapt 
admiration  before  them,  with  occasional  ejaculations  of  '  how 
lovely,'  '  how  divine,'  and  so  on.  On  one  of  these  occasions  he 
asked  my  vriie  if  she  had  had  her  portrait  taken,  '  but  of  course 
not,'  he  added,  '  as  I  have  not  painted  you.' 

"  My  intercourse  with  the  Master  was  Umited  to  occasions  when 
he  wanted  to  borrow  the  pictures.  His  manner  of  proceeding  was 
somewhat  abrupt.  Some  morning  a  person  would  appear  in  a  four- 
wheel  cab  and  present  ^Miistler's  card,  on  which  was  written, 
'  Please  let  bearer  have  fourteen  of  my  pictures.'  Sometimes,  but 
not  oft«n,  there  was  a  prehminary  warning  from  Whistler  him- 
self. But  though  the  picturs  went  easUy,  it  was  a  labour  of 
Hercules  to  retrieve  them.  Once  when  I  went  to  fetch  them  at 
his  studio  by  appointment,  after  a  previous  effort,  also  by  appoint- 
ment, which  was  not  kept,  I  found 'th?  tudio  locked,  but  after 
a  search  among  the  neighboius  I  got  the  key  and  then  I  found 
some  two  or  three  hundred  pictures  stacked  round  the  room  buried 
in  the  dust  of  ages.  Whistler  loved  his  pictures,  but  he  certainly 
128  [1892 


TIIK  (  IIII.IHIKN   <il'    I'     It.   I.KVI.ANIi,   i:S(;. 


THE    TURN    OF    THE    TIDE 

took  no  care  of  them.  On  that  occasion  I  remember  I  took  away 
by  mistake  in  exchange  for  one  of  my  pictures,  a  Nocturne  that 
did  not  belong  to  me,  thougli  it  was  very  like  one  of  mine.  You 
can  imagine  the  Master's  winged  words  when  he  found  this  out. 
I  could  only  cry  mca  culpa  and  bow  my  head  before  the  storm. 
It  was  the  risk  to  which  I  feared  the  pictures  were  exposed  which 
made  me  harden  my  heart.  You  see,  therefore,  that  the  side  of 
Whistler's  character  which  came  before  me  was  the  self-asserting 
egotistic  side — not  the  side  which  I  suppose  he  kept  for  his 
friends.  But  the  Master,  even  when  most  egotistic,  was  always 
dehghtful,  for  his  egotism  was  relieved  by  vrit  and  there  was  always 
the  great  artist  in  the  background.  You  remember  his  speech 
at  the  dinner  we  gave  him  in  London  many  years  ago — the 
opening  words  come  back  to  me.  '  Gentlemen,  we  live  in  an  age 
when  every  remedy  has  its  appropriate  disease ' — the  right  note 
was  struck  at  once.  .  .  ." 

It  was  bad  enough  in  Whistler's  eyes  when  he  had  sold  the 
picture  that  came  up  for  sale  to  its  original  owner  ;  when  he 
had  given  it,  he  could  see  nothing  in  the  sale  except  "  robbery." 
An  instance  is  recalled  to  us  by  Sir  Rennell  Rodd,  who  was  in 
Paris  in  1892,  the  year  when  this  "  traffic,"  as  Whistler  called 
it,  had  begun  : 

"  We  foregathered  again.     I  remember  at  this  time  taking 
Mrs.  Jack  Gardner,  of  Boston,  to  acquire  one  of  his  pictures 
which  he  had  recovered,  under  peculiar  conditions  illustrating 
the  pecuhar  twist  of  his  mind  and  liis  way  of  looking  at  things, 
not  agreeable  to  every  one.     A  certain  Mr.  X.  had  bought  four 
or  five  of  his  pictures,  and,  at  that  time,  Jimmy  had  made  him  a 
present  of  another — a  particularly  beautiful  picture  to  my  mind, 
a  long  stretch  of  foreshore  sand  and  sea  and  sky.     When  X. 
was  practically  ruined,  and  had  to  sell  his  pictures,  he  passed 
the  Whistlers  on  to  their  creator,  who  would,  he  thought,  be 
better  able  to  dispose  of  them  for  him.     Jimmy  agreed  to  do  so. 
He  always  loved  to  get  back  any  of  his  own  works  into  his  studio, 
and  to  appreciate  them  over  again  after  the  long  interval  of 
absence.     But  he  explained  to  X.  as  he  told  me  himself,  that  this 
arrangement  of  course  affected  the  pictures  which  he  had  bought, 
the  four  ;   there  was,  however,  another,  a  fifth,  which  had  been  a 
1892]  n:i  129 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

gift :  and  a  gift,  he  was  sure  X.  himself  would  admit,  was  con- 
ditioned by  certain  sentimental  considerations,  and  the  transfer 
of  the  object  was  occasioned  by  a  certain  expansion  of  feeUng, 
and  wliile  kind  feeling  subsisted  the  nature  of  the  gift  as  a  pledge 
of  friendship,  or  affection,  was  attached  to  the  object  in  question, 
and,  so  long  as  such  feelings  were  reciprocated,  the  picture  was 
of  course  the  property  of  X.,  but  once  the  intention  had  invaded 
his  mind  of  selling  it  or  transferring  it  to  auction  without  senti- 
ment, and  for  a  consideration,  the  whole  spirit  of  the  original 
transfer  was  shattered,  annihilated  ;  the  gift  that  was  had  ceased 
to  be  a  gift  in  the  spirit  in  which  it  was  given — '  and,  in  fact,' 
said  Jimmy,  '  this  picture  is  mine  again.'  So  he  kept  it — and  he 
had  it  there  in  Paris,  and  that  is  the  picture  Mrs.  Gardner 
acquired." 

Whistler  was  no  more  anxious  to  control  the  exhibition  of 
his  pictures,  than  to  suppress  them  altogether  when  he  did 
not  care  to  have  them  shown  or  sold.  The  large  Three  Girls 
(Three  Figures,  Pink  and  Grey  in  the  London  Memorial  Ex- 
hibition) was  at  Messrs.  Dowdeswell's  in  the  summer  of  1891. 
He  had  before  this  tried  to  get  possession  of  it  in  order  that  he 
might  destroy  it,  and  he  had  offered  to  paint  the  portrait  of 
the  owner  and  his  wife  in  exchange.  His  offer  was  refused, 
and,  while  the  picture  was  at  Messrs.  Dowdeswell's,  he  wrote 
a  letter  to  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette  (July  28,  1892),  to  explain 
that  it  was  a  "  painting  thrown  aside  for  destruction."  An 
impudent  answer  from  a  critic  led  to  a  more  explicit  statement 
of  his  i-iews  on  the  subject  : 

"  All  along  have  I  carefully  destroyed  plates,  torn  up  proofs, 
and  burned  canvases,  that  the  truth  of  the  quoted  word  shall 
prevail,  and  that  the  future  collector  shall  be  spared  the  morti- 
fication of  cataloguing  his  pet  mistakes.   To  destroy,  is  to  remain." 

In  the  summer  of  1892,  Whistler  was  invited  by  Sir  Frederick 
Leighton  to  show  in  the  British  Section  at  the  World's  Col- 
umbian Exposition  to  be  held  in  Cliicago  the  following  year, 
and  the  picture  specially  mentioned  for  the  purpose  was  the 

130  [1892 


THE    TURN    OF    THE    TIDE 

Carlyle.  The  portrait  had  been  skied  in  a  remote  corner  the 
previous  winter  at  the  Victorian  Exhibition  in  the  New 
Gallery,  of  which  Mr.  J.  W.  Beck  was  Secretary,  as  he  was 
now  of  the  Fine  Arts  Committee  for  Chicago.  Whistler 
never  forgot.  He  wrote  to  Mr.  Beck,  sending  his  "dis- 
tinguished consideration  "  to  the  President,  with  the  assurance 

"  that  I  have  an  undefined  sense  of  something  ominously  flattering 
occurring,  but  that  no  previous  desire  on  his  part  ever  to  deal 
with  work  of  mine  has  prepared  me  ^vith  the  proper  form  of 
acknowledgment.     No,  no,  Mr.  Beck  ! — Once  hung,  twice  shy  !  " 

When  the  letter  was  sent  to  the  papers,  and  printers  made 
"  sky  "  of  the  "  shy,"  Whistler  was  enchanted.  Mr.  Smalley 
told  the  story  of  Leighton's  invitation  in  the  Times,  after 
Whistler's  death,  under  the  impression  that  he  had  been 
invited  to  show  at  Burlington  House.  That  Whistler  never 
was  invited  to  show  anything  there  we  know,  and  we  have 
the  further  testimony  of  Mr.  Fred.  Eaton,  Secretary  of  the 
Academy  : 

"  No  such  proposal  a;  Mr.  Smalley  speaks  of,  was  ever  made 
to  Mr.  Whistler,  and  it  is  difficult  to  understand  on  what  grounds 
he  made  such  a  statement." 

It  is  at  least  an  amusing  coincidence  that  this  should  seem 
to  be  confirmed  by  the  fate  of  a  letter  addressed  to  Whistler, 
"  The  Academy,  England,"  which,  after  having  gone  to  the 
newspaper  of  that  name,  was  next  sent  to  Burlington  House, 
and  finally  reached  Whistler  with  "  Not  known  at  the  R.A.," 
written  on  the  cover.  Here  was  one  of  the  little  incidents 
that  Whistler  called  "  the  droll  things  of  this  pleasant  life," 
and  he  sent  the  cover  for  reproduction  to  the  Daily  Mail  with 
the  reflection  : 

"  In  these  days  of  doubtful  frequentation,  it  is  my  rare  good 
fortune  to  be  able  to  send  you  an  unsoUcited  official  and  final 
certificate  of  character." 
1S92J  131 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

Whistler  did  not  depend  upon  the  British  Section  at  the 
Chicago  Exposition.  Americans  now  made  up  for  the  official 
blunders  of  1889.  Professor  Halsey  C.  Ives,  Chief  of  the  Art 
Department  in  Chicago,  wrote  to  Whistler  letters  that  ^\^listle^ 
found  most  courteous,  and  everything  was  done  to  secure  a 
good  show  of  his  pictures  and  prints.  We  might  as  well  say 
at  once  that,  as  a  result,  he  was  splendidly  represented  by 
The  Yellow  Buskin,  the  Princesse  du  Pays  de  la  Porcelaine, 
the  Fur  Jacket  among  other  paintings,  and  by  etchings  of 
every  period.  The  medal  given  him,  was  the  first  official 
honour  from  his  native  land,  where,  it  should  also  be  explained, 
never  before  had  so  representative  a  collection  of  his  work 
been  seen. 

Toward  the  end  of  1892,  the  appreciation  of  America  was 
expressed  in  another  form.  The  new  Boston  Library  was 
being  built,  and  Messrs.  McKim,  Meade  and  White  were  the 
architects.  It  was  determined  that  the  interior  should  be 
decorated  by  the  most  distinguished  American  artists.  Mr. 
Sargent  and  Mr.  Abbey  had  been  already  commissioned  to 
do  part  of  the  work,  when  they  joined  with  Stanford  White 
and  St.  Gaudens  in  trying  to  induce  Whistler  to  undertake 
the  large  panel  on  the  stairs.  He  made  notes  and  suggestions 
for  the  design,  which,  he  told  us,  was  to  be  a  great  peacock 
ten  feet  high,  but  the  work  was  put  off,  and,  in  the  end, 
nothing  came  of  the  first  great  opportunity  given  him  for 
mural  decoration  since  the  Peacock  Room. 


132  [1892 


CHAPTER  XXXVII.  PARIS.  THE  YEAR 
EIGHTEEN  NINETY-TWO  TO  NINETY- 
THREE 

WHISTLER  went  to  Paris  to  live  in  1892.  Moving  from 
London  was,  for  him,  a  complicated  affair,  and,  during 
several  months,  he  and  Mrs.  Whistler,  as  well  as  Miss  Birnie 
Philip  (Mrs.  'Wliibley),  were  continually  running  backward  and 
forward,  until  they  finally  settled  in  the  Rue  du  Bac.  We 
saw  him  now,  whenever  he  came  to  London,  and  whenever 
we  were  in  Paris,  and,  as  we  were  there  often,  this  means  that 
we  saw  much  of  him. 

At  this  time,  a  group  of  artists  and  art  critics,  who  were 
mostly  friends,  and  whose  appreciation  of  Whistler  had  not 
waited  for  the  turning  of  the  tide,  were  in  the  habit  of  going 
together  to  Paris  for  the  opening  of  the  Salon.  In  1892,  R. 
A.  M.  Stevenson,  Aubrey  Beardsley,  Henry  Harland,  D.  S. 
McColl,  Charles  W.  Furse,  Alexander  and  Robert  Ross  among 
others,  were  with  us,  and  it  was  a  pleasure  to  us  all  to  find 
Whistler  triumphing  in  Paris  as  he  had  triumphed  earlier  in 
the  spring  in  London.  His  pictures  at  the  Champ-de-Mars 
were  the  most  talked  about  and  the  most  distinguished  in  an 
unusually  good  Salon.  Many  came  straight  from  the  Goupil 
Exhibition.  WTiistler  called  it  "  a  stupendous  success  all 
along  the  line,"  and  he  said  that,  coming  after  the  Goupil 
"  heroic  kick,"  it  made  everything  for  him  complete  and 
perfect.  He  was  pleased  also  with  the  fact  that  this  year  he 
was  on  the  jury. 

In  the  autumn,  J.,  returning  to  Paris,  after  a  long  summer 
189'^]  133 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

in  the  south  of  France,  found  Whistler  installed  in  the  Hotel 
du  Bon  Lafontaine  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  Crenelle  and 
the  Rue  des  Saints-Peres  ;  a  house,  Whistler  said,  full  of 
Bishops,  Cardinals,  and  Monsignori,  and  altogether  most 
correct.  The  following  is  J."s  account  of  his  days  with 
AVhistler  during  this  autumn  and  the  summer  of  1893  : 

"  I  found  him,  not  too  comfortably  established,  in  one  or 
two  small  rooms.  He  was  full  of  the  apartment  in  the  Rue  du 
Bac,  which  I  was  taken  to  see,  though  there  was  nothing  to 
see  but  workmen  and  packing-boxes.  In  the  midst  of  the 
moving,  he  was  working,  and,  one  day,  I  found  him  in  his 
bedroom  with  Mallarme,  whose  portrait  in  lithography  he 
was  drawing,  and  there  was  scarcely  place  for  the  three  of  us. 

"  It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  seen  \Miistler  working  on 
a  lithograph.  He  had  great  trouble  with  this  portrait,  which 
he  did  more  than  once  :  not  altogether  because,  as  M.  Duret 
says,  he  could  not  get  the  head  right,  but  because  he  was 
trying  experiments  with  paper.  He  was  thoroughly  dis- 
satisfied with  the  mechanical  grained  paper,  which  he  had 
used  for  the  Albemarle  and  the  Whirlzcind  prints,  and  he  was 
then  afraid  of  trusting  to  the  post  the  paper  that  Way  was 
sending  him.  He  had  found  at  Belfont's  or  Lemercier's  some 
thin  textureless  transfer  paper,  thin  as  tissue  paper,  which 
delighted  him,  though  it  was  difficult  to  work  on.  When  he 
was  doing  the  Mallarme,  I  remember  he  put  the  paper  down 
on  a  roughish  book  cover.  He  liked  the  grain  the  cover  gave 
him,  for  it  was  not  mechanical,  and,  when  the  grain  seemed 
to  repeat  itself,  he  would  shift  the  drawing,  and  thus  get  a 
new  surface.  I  do  not  know  whether  he  used  this  thin  paper 
to  any  extent,  but  he  said  he  found  it  delightful,  if  difficult,  to 
work  on,  and  spoke  of  the  advantage  of  being  able  to  roll  it  up 
and  send  it  to  the  printer  by  post  without  risk.  The  MaUarrne, 
however,  was  not  sent  to  Way,  but  was  printed  by  Belfont  in 
Paris.  He  used  that  afternoon  a  tiny  bit  of  lithographic 
134  [1892 


PARIS 

chalk,  holding  it  in  his  fingers,  and  not  in  a  crayon-holder,  as 
lithographers  do. 

"  The  next  day,  he  took  me  with  him  to  the  printers, 
Belfont's,  in  the  Rue  Gaillon.  We  went  also  to  Lemercier's, 
where  he  introduced  me  to  M.  Duchatel  and  to  M.  Marty, 
who  was  then  preparing  L'Estampe  Originale,  devoting  himself 
to  the  revival  of  artistic  lithography  in  France.  As  I  re- 
member, the  talk  was  technical,  when  not  of  the  wonders  of  the 
apartment  in  the  Rue  du  Bac — where  '  Peace  threatens  to  take 
up  her  abode  in  the  garden  of  our  pretty  pavilion,'  Mr.  Sidney 
Starr  quotes  Whistler  as  saying — and  the  studio  in  the  Rue 
Notre-Dame-des-Champs,  which  I  did  not  see  until  later  on. 
He  was  also  planning  his  colour  lithographs,  and  he  explained 
to  me  his  methods,  though  very  few  colour-prints  were  made 
until  the  next  year.  What  he  wanted  was  to  use  in  litho- 
graphy the  Japanese  method  of  colour-printing.  He  wished 
to  get  the  freshness  of  colour  which  is  lacking  in  European 
lithographs  but  which  is  the  great  beauty  of  Japanese  colour- 
prints.  He  made  the  complete  drawing  in  the  ordinary 
manner,  in  black  litho  chalk,  either  on  stone  or  paper,  and 
then  settled  in  his  mind  the  colour-scheme  and  the  number  of 
colours  to  be  employed.  Instead  of  working  as  lithographers 
previously  worked,  superimposing  the  colours,  for  example, 
blue  over  yellow  to  get  green,  sometimes  getting  it  and  some- 
times not,  but  always  losing  the  freshness  of  a  Japanese  print, 
he  himself  in  the  printing  office,  mixed  just  the  green  or 
other  colour  he  intended  the  printer  to  use.  He  then  made 
as  many  transfers  from  the  original  drawing  on  the  stone 
as  there  were  to  be  colours  in  the  completed  print.  He 
scratched  out,  as  the  lithographer  does,  from  one  of  the 
transfers,  all  parts  of  the  drawing  save  the  red  ;  from 
another  all  save  the  blue  ;  from  a  third,  all  save  the  brown  ; 
from  a  fourth,  all  save  the  yellow.  The  black  or  grey  key 
block  was  first  printed,  and  then  the  colours.  But  there 
189a]  135 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

was  this  difference  :  each  colour,  as  in  mosaic  or  a  Japanese 
print,  fitted  a  space  that  was  left  for  it,  one  was  not  placed 
on  top  of  another,  so  that,  as  in  Japanese  prints,  the 
colours  would  remain  fresh  and  pure,  and  the  surface  of 
the  paper  not  be  disturbed.  Colour  was  applied  in  the  most 
personal  manner,  delicately,  exquisitely,  just  a  touch,  a 
suggestion  in  the  roof,  the  shutters  of  a  house,  in  the  draperies 
of  the  model,  but  even  for  this  delicacy,  three,  five,  and,  in 
the  most  elaborate,  six  printings  were  required.  He  also 
told  me  what  he  thought  of  printing  etchings  in  colour — 
simply,  that  it  was  abominable,  vulgar,  and  stupid.  Good 
black  or  brown  ink,  on  good  old  paper,  had  been  good  enough 
for  Rembrandt,  it  was  good  enough  for  him,  and  it  ought  to 
be  good  enough  in  the  future  for  the  few  people  who  care 
about  etching.  To-day,  when  the  world  is  swamped  with 
the  childish  print  in  colour,  it  may  be  well  to  remember 
^\^listler's  words.  His  reason  for  rejecting  the  etching  in 
colour  is  as  simple  and  rational  as  his  reason  for  making  the 
lithograph  in  colour.  Lithography  is  a  method  of  surface 
printing  ;  the  colour,  rolled  on  to  the  surface  of  the  stone, 
is  merely  rubbed  on  to  or  scraped  off  on,  the  paper.  In 
etching  or  engraving,  the  colour  is  first  hammered  into  the 
engraved  plate  with  a  dabber  and  then  forced  out  by  excessive 
pressure,  fatal  to  any  but  the  strongest  or  purest  of  blacks 
and  of  browns  ;  and  colours,  whether  printed  from  one  plate 
or  a  dozen,  must  have  the  freshness,  the  quality,  squeezed 
out  of  them. 

"  He  was  again  in  London  at  the  end  of  December  (1892) 
eating  his  Christmas  dinner  with  his  future  brother- 
in-law.  He  stayed  only  a  few  days,  but  long  enough  to 
arrange  to  show  his  beautiful  little-known  Lady  Meux :  White 
and  Black — in  the  first  exhibition  of  the  Grafton  Gallery, 
early  in  1893,  and  a  number  of  his  Venice  etchings  with  the 
destroyed  plates  at  the  Fine  Art  Society's,  We  went  back 
136  [1893 


WIHSTLEi;   AT   HIS  I'IUNTING   press   in   TIIK  ItUK  NOTKE  DAME   DES  CHAIII'S,  PAKTS 


PARIS 

to  Paris  for  the  Salon  of  1893,  and  found  Whistler  well 
settled  in  the  Rue  du  Bac.  Neither  he  nor  Rodin  came  to  the 
Vernissage,  but  I  remember  the  magnificent  apparition  of 
Carolus-Duran,  gorgeous  to  behold.  Zola  was  there,  and 
everybody  climbed  on  chairs  to  see  him.  This  was  the  year 
when  Aman-Jean  arranged  the  hair  of  Madame  Aman-Jean 
low  down  on  each  side  of  her  face,  not  only  painting  her  so, 
but  bringing  her  to  the  Vernissage.  The  sensation  she 
produced  was  so  great  that  every  woman  in  Paris  who  could 
followed  this  new  and  charming  fashion.  Beardsley,  MacColl 
and  '  Bob  '  Stevenson  were  with  us. 

"  MacColl  and  I  went  to  see  Whistler  at  once  in  the  new 
studio.  It  was  at  the  top  of  one  of  the  highest  buildings  in 
the  Rue  Notre-Dame-des-Champs,  No.  86.  As  the  concierge 
said,  in  directing  visitors,  '  On  ne  peut  pas  aller  plus  loin  que 
M.  Vistlaire  !  '  The  climb  always  seemed  to  me  endless, 
and  must  have  done  much  harm  to  Whistler,  whose  heart 
was  weak,  though  benches  were  placed  on  some  of  the  landings 
where,  if  he  had  time,  he  could  rest.  When  we  got  to  the 
sixth  storey,  MacColl  knocked.  There  was  a  rapid  move- 
ment across  the  floor,  and  the  door  was  opened  a  little. 
But  when  he  saw  us  it  was  thrown  wide  open,  and  we  v/ere 
welcomed. 

"  The  studio  was  a  big  bare  room,  the  biggest  studio 
Whistler  ever  had — a  simple  tone  of  rose  on  the  walls  ;  a 
lounge,  a  few  chairs,  a  white-wood  cabinet  for  the  little 
drawings  and  prints  and  pastels  ;  the  blue  screen  with  the 
river,  the  church,  and  the  gold  moon  ;  two  or  three  easels, 
nothing  on  them  ;  rows  and  rows  of  canvases  on  the  floor, 
all  with  their  faces  to  the  wall ;  in  the  further  corner,  a 
printing  press — rather,  a  printing  shop,  with  inks  and  papers 
on  shelves  ;  a  little  gallery  above,  a  room  or  two  opening 
off  ;  a  model's  dressing-room  under  it ;  and  in  front,  when 
you  turned,  the  great  studio  window,  with  all  Paris  toward 
1893]  137 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

the  Pantheon  over  the  Luxembourg  gardens.  There  was 
another  little  room,  or  entrance-hall  at  the  top  of  the  stairs, 
and  opposite,  another,  a  sort  of  kitchen.  On  the  front  was 
a  balcony  with  flowers. 

" '  Carmen,'  his  model,  had  been  posing,  and,  while  he 
showed  us  some  of  his  work,  she  got  breakfast,  and  we  stayed  a 
good  part  of  the  day.  Mrs.  Whistler  came  up  later.  I  think 
she  breakfasted  with  us.  I  have  no  recollection  of  what  he 
talked  about.  But  I  am  sure  it  was  of  what  they  had  been 
saying  in  London,  of  what  they  Avere  saying  in  Paris,  of  what 
he  was  doing.  That  is  what  it  always  was.  We  were  all 
asked  to  lunch  the  following  Sunday  at  the  house. 

"  The  apartment,  No.  110  Rue  du  Bac,  was  on  the  right- 
hand  side,  just  before  you  reached  the  Boti  Marche  going 
up  the  street  from  the  river.  You  went  through  a  big  porte 
cochere  by  the  concierge  box,  down  a  long  covered  tunnel, 
then  between  high  walls,  until  you  came  to  a  little  courtyard 
with  several  doors — a  bit  of  an  old  frieze  in  one  place  and  a 
drinking  fountain.  Whistler's  door  was  not  to  be  mistaken 
— painted  blue,  with  a  brass  knocker.  I  do  not  suppose  that 
then  there  was  another  like  it  in  Paris.  Inside,  you  were 
on  a  little  landing  with  three  or  four  steps  down  to  the  floor, 
a  few  feet  lower  than  the  courtyard.  This  room  contained 
nothing,  or  almost  nothing,  but  some  trunks  (which,  as  in  his 
other  houses,  gave  the  appearance  of  his  having  just  moved 
in,  or  being  just  about  to  start  on  a  journey)  and  a  settee, 
always  covered  with  a  profusion  of  hats  and  coats.  Opposite 
the  entrance,  a  big  door  opened  into  a  spacious  room, 
decorated  in  simple  flat  tones  of  blue,  with  white  doors  and 
windows,  furnished  with  a  few  Empire  chairs  and  a  couch, 
a  grand  piano,  and  a  table  which,  like  the  blue  matting- 
covered  floor,  was  always  littered  with  newspapers.  Once 
in  a  while  there  was  a  single  picture  of  his  on  the  wall.  For 
some  time,  the  Venus,  one  of  the  Projects,  hung  or  stood  about. 
138  [1893 


PARIS 

There  were  doors  to  the  right  and  left,  and,  on  the  far  side, 
another  big  door  and  big  windows  opened  on  a  large  garden, 
a  real  bit  of  the  country  in  Paris.  It  stretched  away,  in 
dense  undergrowth,  to  several  huge  trees.  Later,  there  was 
a  trellis  over  the  door,  designed  by  Mrs.  Whistler,  and  there 
were  flowers  everywhere — '  In  his  roses  he  buried  his  troubles,' 
Mr.  Wuerpel  writes  of  the  garden  ;  and  there  were  many 
birds  :  among  them,  at  one  time,  an  awful  mocking  bird  ; 
at  another  time,  a  white  parrot,  which  finally  escaped,  and, 
in  a  temper,  climbed  up  a  tree  where  nobody  could  reach  it, 
and  starved  itself  to  death,  to  Whistler's  grief.  At  the 
bottom  of  the  garden  there  were  seats.  The  dining-room 
was  to  the  right  of  the  drawing-room.  It  was  equally  simple, 
in  blue.  Only  there  was  blue  and  white  china  in  a  cupboard, 
and  a  big  dining-table,  round  which  were  more  Empire  chairs, 
and  in  the  centre  a  large,  low  blue  and  white  porcelain  stand, 
on  it  always  big  bowls  of  flowers  ;  over  it,  hanging  from  the 
ceiling,  a  huge  Japanese  something  like  a  bird-cage. 

"  From  Paris,  in  May,  I  went  down  to  Caen  and  Coutances, 
coming  back  a  few  weeks  later.  Beardsley  was  still  in  Paris, 
or  had  returned,  and  we  were  both  stopping  at  the  Hotel  de 
Portugal  et  de  I'Univers,  then  known  to  every  art  student. 
Wagner  was  being  played  at  the  Opera,  almost  for  the  first 
time.  Paris  was  very  disturbed,  there  were  demonstrations 
against  Wagner,  really  against  Germany.  We  went,  Beardsley 
then  wild  about  Wagner,  and  doing,  I  think,  the  drawing  of 
The  Wagnerites.  He  had  come  over  to  get  backgrounds  in 
the  rose  arbours  and  the  dense  alleys  of  the  Luxembourg 
gardens,  where  Whistler  had  made  his  lithographs.  Coming 
away  from  the  Opera,  we  went  across  to  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix 
at  midnight.  The  first  person  we  saw  was  Whistler.  He 
was  with  some  people,  but  they  left  soon,  and  he  joined  us. 
Beardsley  also  left  almost  at  once,  but  not  before  Whistler 
had  asked  us  to  come  the  next  Sunday  afternoon  to  the  Rue 
I8<).S]  139 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

du  Bac.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  I  learned  what  he  thought 
of  '  aestheticism  '  and  '  decadence.' 

"  '  Why  do  you  get  mixed  up  with  such  things  ?  Look  at  him  ! — 
he's  just  hke  his  drawings — he's  all  hairs  and  peacock  plumes — 
hairs  on  his  head — hairs  on  his  finger  ends — hairs  in  his  ears — 
hairs  on  his  toes.  And  what  shoes  he  wears — hairs  growing  out 
of  them  ! ' 

I  said,  '  Why  did  you  ask  him  to  the  Rue  du  Bac  ?  ' 
— '  Oh — well — well — well  !  '  And  then  it  was  late,  or  early, 
and  the  last  thing  was,  '  Well,  you'll  come  and  bring 
him  too. 

"  Years  later,  in  Buckingham  Street,  \Mustler  met  Beardsley 
and  got  to  Uke  not  only  him,  as  everybody  did,  but  his  work. 
One  night,  when  \\Tiistler  was  with  us,  Beardsley  turned  up, 
as  always  when  he  went  to  see  any  one,  with  his  portfolio 
of  his  latest  work  under  his  arm.  This  time  it  held  the 
illustrations  for  TJw  Rape  of  the  Lock,  which  he  had  just  made. 
Whistler,  who  always  saw  everything  that  was  being  done, 
had  seen  the  Yellow  Book,  started  in  1894  bj-  Harland 
and  Beardsley,  and  he  disliked  it  as  much  as  he  then 
disliked  both  the  editors  ;  he  had  also  seen  the  illustrations 
to  Salome,  disliking  them  too,  probably  because  of  Oscar 
Wilde  ;  he  knew  many  of  the  other  dra\vings,  one  of  which, 
whether  intentionally  or  unintentionally,  was  more  or  less  a 
reminiscence  of  Mrs.  ^^'histle^  ;  and  he  no  doubt  knew  that 
Beardsley  had  made  a  caricature  of  him,  which  one  of  the 
Followers  carefully  left  in  a  cab.  "WTien  Beardsley  opened 
the  portfolio,  and  began  to  show  us  the  Rape  of  the  Lock, 
Whistler  looked  at  them  first  indifferently,  then  with  interest, 
then  with  delight.  And  then  he  said  slowly,  '  Aubrey,  I 
have  made  a  very  great  mistake — you  are  a  very  great  artist.' 
And  the  boy  burst  out  crying.  All  Whistler  could  say,  when 
he  could  say  anything,  was  '  I  mean  it — I  mean  it — I  mean  it.' 

"  On  the  following  Sunday,  that  summer  in  Paris,  Beardsley 
140  [1893 


PARIS 

and  I  went  to  the  Rue  du  Bac,  Beardsley  in  a  little  straw  hat 
like  Whistler's.  Whistler  was  in  the  garden,  and  there  were 
many  Americans  ;  and  Arsene  Alexandre,  who  then  lived 
in  a  tower,  and  Mallarme  ;  some  people  from  the  British 
Embassy  ;  and,  presently,  Mr.  Jacomb  Hood  came,  bringing 
an  Honourable  Amateur,  who  asked  the  Whistlers,  Beardsley 
and  myself  to  dinner  at  one  of  the  cajes  in  the  Champs-Elysees. 
As  we  left  the  Rue  du  Bac,  Whistler  whispered  to  me,  '  Those 
hairs — hairs  everywhere  !  '  I  said  to  him,  '  But  you  were 
very  nice,  and,  of  course,  you'll  come  to  dinner  !  '  And,  of 
course,  he  never  came. 

"  I  was  working  in  Paris,  making  drawings  and  etchings 
of  Notre-Dame.  I  had  moved  from  the  hotel  to  one  of  the 
high  old  houses  of  lodgings  and  studios,  with  cabmen's  cafes 
and  restaurants  under  them,  on  the  Quai  des  Grands  Augustins. 
I  had  gone  there  because  of  the  magnificent  view  of  the 
Cathedral.  Most  of  the  time  I  was  at  work  up  among  the 
Devils  of  Notre-Dame,  using  one  of  the  towers  as  a  studio 
by  permission  of  the  Government  and  the  Cardinal-Arch- 
bishop. One  morning — it  was  in  June — I  heard  the  puffing 
and  groaning  of  some  one  climbing  slowly  the  endless  winding 
staircase,  and  the  next  thing  I  saw  was  Whistler.  When  he 
got  his  breath  and  I  had  got  over  my  astonishment,  I  either 
began  to  ask  why  he  had  come,  or  he  began  to  explain  the 
reason.  He  had  learned  where  I  was  staying,  and  he  said 
he  had  been  to  the  hotel,  which  was,  well ! — I  think  it  reminded 
him  of  his  own  days  au  sixieme,  for  that  was  the  floor  I  was  on. 
He  left  a  note  written  on  the  buvette  paper,  in  which  he  said, 
'  Jolly  the  place  seems  to  be  !  '  After  he  had  climbed  up 
to  my  rooms,  the  patron  told  him  where  he  possibly  would 
find  me,  and  then  the  people  at  the  foot  of  the  tower  said 
I  was  up  above. 

"  He  told  me  why  he  had  come.  He  was  working  on  a 
series  of  etchings  of  Paris.  Some  were  only  just  begun,  others 
1893]  141 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

were  ready  to  bite,  but  a  number  ought  to  be  printed,  and 
would  I  come  and  help  him  ?  Of  course,  I  was  pleased,  and 
I  said  I  would.  I  remember  taking  him  about  among  the 
strange  creatures  that  haunt  the  place  :  the  old  keeper  with 
his  grisly  tales  of  suicides  and  of  how  he  stuck  to  the  tower 
all  through  the  Commune,  even  when  the  church  was  set  on 
fire  ;  the  awful  bell  that,  at  noon,  suddenly  crashed  in  your 
ears  ;  the  uncanny  cat  that  used  to  perch  on  crockets  and 
gargoyles,  and  try  to  catch  sparrows  with  nothing  at  all 
below  her,  and  make,  from  one  parapet  to  another,  flying  cuts 
over  space  when  visitors  came  up  ;  and  the  horrid  chimerae 
themselves.  He  did  not  like  it,  and  was  not  happy  until 
we  were  safely  seated  in  the  back  room  of  a  restaurant  just 
across  the  street.  He  talked  about  the  printing,  saying  that 
I  could  help  him,  and  he  could  teach  me. 

"  Next  morning  I  was  at  the  Rue  du  Bac  at  nine.  After 
I  had  waited  for  what  seemed  hours,  and  had  breakfasted  with 
him  and  Mrs.  Whistler,  and  we  had  had  our  coffee  and  a 
cigarette  in  the  garden,  where  there  was  a  little  table  and  an 
American  rocking-chair  for  him — well,  after  this,  it  was  too 
late  to  go  to  the  studio.  He  brought  out  some  of  the  plates 
which  he  had  been  working  on — the  plates  of  little  shops  in 
the  near  streets  and  we  looked  at  them,  and  that  was  all. 
So  it  went  on  the  next  day,  and  the  next,  until  on  the  third 
or  fourth  things  came  to  a  head,  and  I  told  him  that,  charming 
as  this  life  was,  either  we  must  print  or  I  must  go  back  to 
my  drawing.  In  five  minutes  we  were  in  a  cab,  on  our  way 
to  the  studio.  He  understood  that,  much  as  I  admired  his 
work  and  appreciated  him,  I  could  not  pay  for  this  apprecia- 
tion and  admiration  with  my  time.  From  the  moment  this 
was  plain  between  us,  there  was  no  interruption  to  our  friend- 
ship for  the  rest  of  his  hfe 

"  We  set  to  work  at  the  press  Belfont  had  put  up  for  him. 
He  peeled  down  to  his  undershirt  with  short  sleeves,  and  1 
143  [l89;i 


PARIS 

saw  then,  in  his  muscles,  one  reason  why  he  was  never  tired. 

He  put  on  an  apron.     The  plates,  only  slightly  heated,  if 

heated  at  all,  were  inked  and  wiped,  sometimes  with  his  hand, 

at  others  with  a  rag,  till  nearly  clean,  though  a  good  tone 

was  left.     He  really  painted  the  plate  with  his  hand  that  day. 

I  got  the  paper  ready  on  the  press  and  pulled  the  proof,  he 

inking  and  I  pulling  all  the  afternoon.     As  each  proof  came 

oif  the  press,  he  looked  at  it,  not  satisfied,  for  they  were  all 

weak,  and  saying,  '  we'll  keep  it  as  the  first  proof,  and  it  will 

be  worth  something  some  day.'     Then  he  put  the  prints 

between  sheets  of  blotting-paper,  and  that  night,  or  the  next, 

after  dinner,  trimmed  them  with  scissors,  and  put  them  back 

between   the   folded   sheets   of   blotting-paper   which   were 

thrown  round  on  the  table  and  on  the  floor.     Between  the 

sheets,  the  proofs  dried  naturally  and  were  not  squashed  flat. 

"  The  printing  went  on  for  several  days,  he  getting  more 

and  more  dissatisfied,  until  I  found  an  old  man,  Lamour,  at 

the  top  of  an  old  house  in  the  Rue  de  la  Harpe,  who  could 

reground  the  plates.     But  Whistler  did  not  rebite  them,  and 

never  touched  them  until  long  after  in  England. 

"  A  number  of  plates  had  never  been  bitten,  and  one  hot 
Sunday  afternoon  be  brought  them  in  the  garden  at  the 
Rue  du  Bac.  A  chair  was  placed  under  the  trees,  and  on 
it  a  wash-basin,  into  which  each  plate  was  put.  Instead  of 
pouring  the  diluted  acid  all  over  the  plate  in  the  usual  fashion 
drops  were  taken  up  from  the  bottle  on  a  feather,  and  the 
plate  practically  painted  with  the  acid.  The  acid  was 
coaxed,  or,  rather,  used  as  one  would  use  water-colour,  dragged 
and  washed  about.  Depth  and  strength  were  got  by  simply 
leaving  a  drop  of  acid  on  the  lines  where  these  effects  were 
needed.  There  was  little  stopping-out  of  passages  where 
greater  delicacy  was  required  ;  when  there  was  any,  the 
stopping-out  varnish  was  thinned  with  turpentine,  and 
Whistler,  with  a  camel's  hair  brush,  painted  over  the  parts 
1893]  143 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

that  did  not  need  further  biting.  To  me,  it  was  a  revelation. 
Sometimes  he  drew  on  the  plate.  Instead  of  the  huge 
crowbar  used  by  most  etchers,  he  worked  with  a  perfectly 
balanced,  beautifully  designed  little  needle,  three  or  four 
inches  long,  made  for  him  by  an  instrument  maker  in  Paris. 
He  always  carried  several  in  a  little  silver  box.  The  grounds 
on  all  the  plates  were  bad  and  came  off,  and  the  proofs  he 
pulled  afterwards  in  the  studio  were  not  at  all  what  he 
wanted.     These  were  almost  the  last  plates  he  ever  etched. 

"  He  was  not  painting  very  much  then,  only  a  few  people 
came  to  the  studio,  and  he  went  out  little.     No  one  was  in 
the  Rue  du  Bac  but  Mrs.  Whistler  for  a  while,  and  there 
Avere  complications  with  the  servants — how  people  who  kept 
such  hours,  or  no  hours,  could  keep  servants  would  have  been 
a  mystery,  had  not  servants  worshipped  him.     Almost  daily 
the  petit  bleu  asking  me  to  dinner  would  come  to  my  lodgings. 
Or  else  Whistler  would  appear  early  in  the  morning,  if  I  had 
not  been  to  him  the  day  before.     In  those  early  days  in  Jime, 
I  seldom  met  any  one  at  the  house,  and  he  never  dressed  for 
dinner,  possibly  because  I  had  no  dress  clothes  with  me  :   he 
would  insist  on  my  coming,  telling  me  not  to  mind  the  stains 
or  the  ink-spots  !     One  evening  in  the  garden  with  them, 
I  found  a  little  man,  a  thorough  Englishman,  in  big  spectacles, 
with  a  curious  sniff,  who  was  holding  a  hose  and  watering 
the  plants.     He  was  introduced  to  me  as  Mr.  Webb,  Whistler's 
solicitor,  though,  in  the  process,  we  came  near  being  drenched 
by  the  wobbling  hose.     It  was  that  evening  I  first  heard  the 
chant  of  the  Missionary  Brothers  from  behind  the  great  wall 
beyond  the  trees.     A  bell  sounded,  and,  as  the  notes  died 
away,  a  wailing  chant  arose,  went  on  for  a  little,  then  died 
away  as  mysteriously  as  it  came.     Always,  when  it  did  come, 
it   hushed   us.      At   dinner    we   should   be   cosy   and   jolly. 
Whistler  had  said  in  asking  me,  and  we  were,  and  it  was 
arranged  that  we  should  go  the  next  day  to  Fontainebleau. 
144  [189* 


PARIS 

"  They  called  for  me  at  the  hotel  in  the  morning.  We 
drove  to  the  Lyons  station.  Whistler,  his  wife,  Mr.  Webb  and  I. 
And  Whistler  had  the  little  paint-box  which  always  went  with 
him,  though  on  these  occasions  it  was  the  rarest  thing  that 
he  ever  did  anything — and  we  got  to  Fontainebleau.  We 
lunched  in  a  garden.  We  didn't  go  to  the  Palace,  but  drove 
to  Barbizon,  stopping  at  Siron's,  and  through  the  forest. 
I  don't  think  the  views  or  the  trees  interested  him  at  all. 
He  was  very  quiet  all  the  way,  but  no  sooner  were  we  back 
than  we  must  hunt  for  '  old  things  '  :  here  was  a  Palace, 
and  great  people  had  lived  here,  there  might  be  silver,  there 
might  be  blue  and  white, — '  though  really  now,  you  know 
you  can  find  better  blue  and  white,  and  cheaper  silver,  under 
the  noses  of  the  Britons,  in  Wardour  Street,  than  anywhere.' 
We  did  not  find  any  blue  and  white,  or  silver.  But  there 
were  three  folio  volumes  of  old  paper  containing  a  collection 
of  dried  leaves — which  we  bought  and  shared.  He  printed 
lithographs  on  his  share,  and  I  have  mine.  But  those  three 
volumes  were  to  him  more  valuable  than  all  the  Palace,  and 
the  Millet  studio  which  we  never  saw. 

"  It  was  late  when  we  got  back.  His  servants  had  gone 
to  bed,  and  Marguery's  and  the  places  where  he  liked  to  dine 
were  shut.  So  we  bought  what  we  could  in  the  near  shops 
and  sat  down  in  the  Rue  du  Bac  to  eat  the  supper  we  had 
collected.  After  we  had  finished,  I  witnessed  his  and  Mrs. 
Whistler's  wills  which  Mr.  Webb  had  brought  with  him  from 
London,  and  for  this  the  long  day  had  been  a  preparation. 

"  If  I  did  not  always  accept  Whistler's  invitations,  he 
would  reproach  me  as  an  awful  disappointment  and  a  bad 
man.  If  I  did  not  go  to  the  dinner,  to  which  I  was  bidden 
at  an  hour's  notice,  he  would  tell  me  afterwards  of  the  much 
cool  drink  and  encouraging  refreshment  he  had  prepared 
for  me.  He  always  asked  me  to  bring  my  friends.  Mr.  J, 
Fulleylove  had  come  over  to  '  do '  Paris,  and  I  took  him  to 
1893]  II  :k  145 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

the  Rue  du  Bac — '  les  Pleins  d' Amour,''  Whistler  called  him 
and  Mrs.  Fullej-love,  whose  eyes  he  was  always  praising. 
They  were  working  at  St.  Denis,  and  so  was  I,  and  one  day 
Whistler  and  Mrs.  Whistler  came  in  the  primitive  steam  tram 
that  starts  from  the  Madeleine  to  see  the  place.  We  lunched 
— badly — and  he  was  bored  with  the  church,  though  he  had 
brought  lithograph  paper  and  colours  to  make  a  sketch  of  it. 

"  One  Sunday,  ^Ir.  E.  G.  Kennedy's  portrait  was  painted 
in  the  garden  on  a  very  small  canvas  or  a  panel,  and  all  the 
world  was  kept  out  on  that  occasion.  I  had  never  before 
seen  Whistler  paint.  He  worked  away  all  afternoon,  hissing 
to  himself,  which,  Mrs.  'Whistler  said,  he  did  only  when 
things  were  going  well.  If  Kennedy  shifted — there  were  no 
rests — ^Vhistler  would  scream,  and  he  worked  on,  and  on, 
and  the  sun  went  down  ;  and  Kennedy  stood,  and  WTiistler 
painted,  and  the  monks  began  their  chant,  and  darkness 
was  coming  on.  The  hissing  stopped — a  paint  rag  came  out 
— and,  with  one  fierce  dash,  it  was  all  rubbed  off.  '  Oh,  well,' 
was  all  he  said.  Kennedy  was  limbered  up,  and  we  went 
to  dinner. 

"  After  that,  almost  every  night  we  dined  together  through 
that  lovely  June  :  either  with  him  in  the  Rue  du  Bac,  or  he 
came  with  us  to  Marguery's  or  to  La  Perouse- — once  to  St. 
Germain — or  somewhere  that  was  delightful. 

"  The  summer  was  famous  in  Paris  as  that  of  the  '  Sarah 
Brown  Students'  Revolution,'  the  row  that  grew  out  of  the 
Quatz'  Arts  Ball.  W^hen  I  went  to  the  Rue  du  Bac,  I  used 
to  tell  Whistler  of  the  doings  on  the  Boul'  Mich'  and  around 
St.  Germain  des  Pres.  Wisely,  he  would  not  go  out  to  see 
the  disturbances,  but  I  had  to  walk  through  the  length  of  the 
Quarlier  to  get  to  him.  Then  I  spent  some  evenings  in  the 
midst  oi  it  all  at  the  Caje  Clunyw'ith  Octave  Uzanne,Renouard 
and  Buhot.  Processions,  with  '  Sally  '  Brown — she  was  a 
model — at  the  head,  would  march  dowai  the  Boul'  Mich' 
146  [1893 


PARIS 

solemnly  chanting  '  Conspuez  Loze  ' — the  Prefet — pass  over 
the  bridge,  and  bring  up  in  front  of  the  Prefecture  of  Police, 
out  of  which  a  sortie  of  police  on  horseback  and  on  foot  would 
come.  At  once  the  demonstrators,  until  then  warlike  as 
possible,  would  be  transformed  into  peaceable  citizens  taking 
their  coffee  and  petiis  verres  at  the  surrounding  cajes. 

"  After  some  nights  of  this,  when  one  or  two  people  got 
killed,  windows  were  smashed  and  kiosques  were  burned, 
Belleville  and  Montmartre  hurried  over  to  take  part  in  the 
fun,  which  culminated  on  the  Fourth  of  July — my  birthday. 
Whistler  proposed  to  celebrate  both  together,  and  we  were 
to  meet  at  six  and  dine  somewhere — Marguery's,  I  think. 
All  day  painters  and  students  had  been  demonstrating.  It 
was  great  fun.  They  chivvied  a  policeman,  somebody  threw 
a  brick  at  him,  he  called,  and,  the  next  thing,  down  the 
street  charged  a  mounted  squadron.  They  dodged  into  an 
open  doorway,  shut  it  behind  them,  and,  when  the  soldiers 
had  passed,  went  out,  chivvied  another  policeman,  and 
the  same  thing  happened  all  over  again.  In  the  evening, 
as  I  came  up  to  St.  Germain  des  Pres,  I  saw  an  enormous 
crowd  pour  out  of  one  of  the  narrow  streets.  There  were 
students,  rapins  male  and  female,  at  the  head,  but  all  round 
in  a  solid  mass,  was  a  crowd — the  dregs  of  Paris,  a  crowd 
I  have  never  seen  before  or  since — and  the  chant  of  the 
students  was  drowned  by  the  Carmagnole.  When  they 
reached  the  square,  every  shop  was  shut,  not  before  the 
windows  of  many  were  broken,  and  the  students  had  vanished. 
They  seized  the  cafe  tables  and  threw  them  across  the  streets 
and  the  Boulevard.  They  rushed  to  the  trees,  tore  up  the 
gratings,  raised  them  in  their  sections,  dashed  them  on  the 
asphalt,  which  cracked,  and  the  iron-work  broke  into  battle 
axes.  In  a  minute  they  were  armed.  Over  went  the  news- 
paper-kiosques,  old  ladies  and  all,  and  they  were  dragged 
across  the  streets.  A  cart  of  bricks  passed,  the  traces  were 
1893]  147 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

cut,  and  the  bricks  dumped  in  the  middle  of  the  Rue  de  Rennes. 
A  Montparnasse  three-horse  omnibus  appeared  :  the  horses 
were  taken  out,  and  the  passengers  forced  to  get  down,  aU 
but  one  old  gentleman,  who  announced  that  he  had  paid 
his  fare  to  the  station,  and  there  he  was  going  ;  two  men 
mounted  on  top,  took  away  the  umbrella  he  was  pointing  his 
speech  with,  hooked  it  in  his  collar,  and  carefully  lowered  him 
into  the  crowd  below.  The  omnibus  and  then  a  tram  were 
smashed  and  the  place  was  barricaded.  For  two  reasons 
I  thought  I  had  better  leave  ;  there  was  no  pretended  Entente 
Cordiale  in  those  days,  and  it  was  dinner-time. 

"  Whistler,  when  I  arrived  at  the  house,  ridiculed  the 
affair,  but  he  decided  all  the  same  to  dine  at  home,  and  to 
put  off  by  telegram  the  dinner  he  had  ordered.  I  went  round 
to  the  Boulevard  St.  Germain  again  to  send  the  wire,  and 
found  it  barred  with  soldiers  and  police,  and  the  entire  Boule- 
vard, as  far  as  one  could  see,  littered  with  all  sorts  of  hats 
and  caps,  sticks  and  umbrellas.  There  had  been  a  cavalry 
charge  and  this  was  the  result. 

"  We  dined  merrily,  but  Kennedy  and  I  left  early. 

"  There  was  a  great  deal  of  rioting  through  the  night,  but 
that  was  the  end  of  it,  for  regiments  were  bivouacked  all  up 
and  down  the  streets. 

"  Mrs.  Whistler  had  not  been  very  well  lately,  and  they 
suddenly  made  up  their  minds  to  go  to  Brittany,  or  Nor- 
mandy, or  somewhere  on  the  coast.  It  was  not  altogether 
a  successful  journey.  Nature  had  gone  back  on  him,  he 
told  me,  in  speaking  of  it,  probably  because  of  his  exposure 
of  her  '  foolish  sunsets  '  ;  the  weather  was  for  tourists — the 
sea  for  gold-fish  in  a  bowl — the  studio  was  better  than  staring 
at  a  sea  of  tin.  And  the  terrible  things  they  had  eaten  in 
Brittany  made  them  ill.  But  the  lithographs  at  Vitre  were 
made,  also  the  Yellow  House,  Lannion,  and  the  Red  House, 
Paimpol ;  his  first  elaborate  essays  in  colour. 
148  [1893 


PARIS 

"  Only  a  few  impressions  of  the  Yellow  House  were  ever 
pulled,  owing,  it  is  said,  to  sonae  accident  to  the  stone.  One 
of  these  I  wanted  to  buy.  Whistler  heard  of  it.  '  Well,  you 
know,  very  flattering,  but  altogether  absurd,'  he  told  me, 
and  the  print  came  with  an  inscription  and  the  Butterfly." 


1S9S]  ■«49 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII.  PARIS  CONTINUED. 
THE  YEARS  EIGHTEEN  NINETY-THREE 
TO  EIGHTEEN  NINETY-FOUR 

AFTER  this  summer,  we  both  of  us  saw  still  more  of 
^\^^istle^,  whenever  we  were  in  Paris.  At  the  Rue 
du  Bae,  %ve  were  always  struck  by  the  small  number  of 
French  artists  at  his  Sunday  afternoons  and  the  pre- 
dominance of  Americans  and  English.  Indeed,  it  always 
seemed  to  us  that  French  artists  might  have  been  more  cordial 
and  the  French  nation  more  responsive  to  the  fact  that  so 
distinguished  a  foreign  artist  had  come  to  Uve  in  France. 
During  his  lifetime  at  least  one  or  two  Americans,  one  a  rich 
amateur,  were  made  Commanders  of  the  Legion  of  Honour, 
while  he  remained  an  officer.  Others  were  made  foreign 
Members  of  the  Academy  of  Fine  Arts,  but  this,  the  highest 
honour  available  for  artists  in  France,  was  never  offered 
to  him. 

With  a  few  French  artists  his  relations  were  friendly, 
Boldini,  Helleu,  Puvis  de  Chavannes,  Rodin,  Alfred  Stevens, 
Aman- Jean.  But  the  greater  number  were  content  to  express 
their  appreciation  at  a  distance.  Mrs.  \Vhistler  spoke  little 
French,  which,  naturally,  was  an  impediment  to  closer 
intercourse,  though,  as  will  presently  be  seen,  another  reason 
for  this  want  of  cordiality  is  given  by  Mr.  Walter  Gay,  whose 
knowledge  of  social  life  in  Paris  is  far  greater  than  ours. 
Some  of  the  Frenchmen  of  whom  Whistler  saw  most  were 
not  painters.  Viele-Griffin,  Octave  Mirbeau,  Arsene  Alex- 
andre, the  Comte  de  Montesquiou,  Rodenbach  were  among 
150  [1893 


PARIS 

those  who  were  to  be  met  at  the  Rue  du  Bac.  Old  friends, 
M.  Drouet  and  M.  Duret,  were  sometimes  there,  though  not 
very  often ;  his  intimacy  with  them  and  M.  Oulevey  was 
not  really  renewed  until  after  Mrs.  Whistler's  death.  But 
of  all  who  came,  none  endeared  himself  so  much  to  Whistler 
as  Stephane  Mallarme,  the  poet,  critic,  friend  and  sincere 
admirer.  Once,  at  Whistler's  suggestion,  he  visited  us  in 
London,  and,  looking  from  our  windows  to  the  Thames, 
declared  he  could  understand  Whistler  the  better.  Official 
people  strayed  in  from  the  Embassies,  mostly  English. 
American  authors  and  American  collectors  appeared  on 
Sundays.  Mr.  Howells,  once  or  twice,  came  with  his  son  and 
daughter,  of  whom  Whistler  made  a  lithograph.  Journalists, 
English  and  American,  had  a  way  of  wandering  in. 

On  the  other  hand,  English  and  American  artists  dropped 
in  to  the  garden  at  the  Rue  du  Bac  daily  and  in  numbers. 
The  younger  men  of  the  Glasgow  school  came,  more  especially 
James  Guthrie  and  John  Lavery.  Then  there  were  the 
Americans  living  in  Paris  :  Walter  Gay,  Alexander  Harrison, 
Frederick  MacMonnies,  Edmund  H.  Wuerpel,  John  W. 
Alexander,  Humphreys  Johnston,  while  Sargent  and  Abbey 
rarely  missed  an  opportunity  of  calling  at  the  Rue  du  Bac. 
If  Whistler  welcomed  artists  of  standing,  he  was  hardly  less 
cordial  to  students  who  were  serious  in  their  work.  Mil- 
cendeau  has  told  us  how,  taking  his  work — and  Ms  courage 
— with  him,  he  went  to  see  Whistler,  but  reaching  the  door 
stood  there  trembling  at  the  thought  of  meeting  the  great 
master  and  showing  his  drawings.  As  soon  as  Whistler  saw 
the  drawings,  his  manner  was  so  charming — as  if  they  were 
just  two  artists  together — that  fear  was  forgotten,  and 
Whistler  ultimately  proved  his  interest  by  inviting  Milcendeau 
to  send  the  drawings  to  the  International.  Whistler  met 
American  and  English  students  not  only  at  the  Rue  du  Bac 
but  at  the  American  Art  Association  in  Montparnasse,  then 
1893]  151 


JAMES    McNeill  WHISTLER 

a  bit  of  old  Paris  :  a  little  white  house  with  green  shutters, 
which  the  street  had  long  since  left  on  a  lower  level,  and, 
at  the  back,  a  garden  where  under  the  great  trees  the  cloth 
was  laid  in  summer  :  just  the  house  to  please  Whistler.  He 
often  went  to  the  club's  dinners  and  celebrations.  At  one 
dinner  on  Washington's  Birthday,  after  the  popular  professors 
and  politicians  had  delivered  their  speeches,  he  was  un- 
expectedly called  upon  to  speak.  It  came  as  an  inspiration, 
he  said,  and  he  contrasted  the  conditions  in  the  schools  on  the 
two  sides  of  the  Channel  : 

"  Tradition  in  England  has  not  yet  been  recognised,  and  you 
go  as  you  please.  In  France,  where  tradition  is  respected,  the 
student  at  least  is  taught  which  end  of  the  brush  should  go  on 
the  canvas  and  which  in  his  mouth,  but  in  England — well— there 
it  is  purely  a  matter  of  taste." 

Mr.  MacMonnies  remembers  another  evening  : 

"  A  millionaire  friend  of  AMiistler's  and  mine  spoke  to  me  of 
giving  a  dinner  to  the  American  artists  in  Paris,  or  rather  to 
^Tiistler,  and  inviting  the  Paris  American  artists.  I  dissuaded 
him,  by  sajang  they  aU  hated  one  another  and  would  pass  the 
evening  more  clieerfully  by  sticking  forks  into  one  another  under 
the  table  if  they  could.  Better  to  invite  all  the  young  fry— the 
American  students.  He  gladly  went  into  it.  You  can  imagine 
the  wild  joy  of  the  small  fry,  who  had,  of  course,  never  met 
Whistler.  Some  got  foolisiily  drunk,  others  got  bloated  ^vith 
freshness,  but  they  all  had  a  rare  time,  and  \Miistler,  who  sat 
at  the  head,  more  than  any,  and  he  was  deUghtfuUy  funny.  The 
millionaire  was  enchanted,  and  also  a  distinguished  American 
painter,  who  sat  opposite  to  Whistler,  and  who  was  much  respected 
by  the  youth.  At  one  pause,  he  said  :  '  ]Mr.  A\Tiistler,  I  went 
to  the  Louvre  this  morning  '—pause — all  the  youths'  faces  wide 
open,  expecting  pearls  of  wisdom  and  points — '  and  I  was 
amazed  !  ' — pause — everybody  open-eared — '  to  see  the  amazing 
way  they  kept  the  floors  waxed  !  ' " 

A  story  is  told  of  his  going,  one  day  at  lunch  time,  into 
the  court  of  the  Ecole  des  Beaux-Arts,  and  finding  himself 
152  [isp.*? 


CAMKliS 


PARIS 

followed  by  a  line  of  students  solemnly  keeping  step  and 
looking  at  everything  he  did.  He  continued  his  walk,  and 
so  did  they,  and  they  bowed  each  other  out  at  the  gate, 
before  they  knew  who  he  was.  But  American  students  of 
the  Quartier  are  said  almost  to  have  mobbed  him,  climbing 
over  everything  to  see  him,  when  he  went  to  their  restaurant. 
Whistler  was  recognised,  looked  up  to,  by  the  Americans  of 
the  new  generation,  and  was  personally  loved  and  respected  by 
them,  just  as  his  work  filled  them  with  respect  and  admiration. 
Mr.  Walter  Gay,  whose  reputation  as  a  distinguished  artist 
was  then  already  made,  and  who  felt  the  extraordinary  charm 
of  the  man  and  the  importance  of  his  work,  writes  us  : 

"  I  first  knew  Whistler  in  the  winter  of  '94,  when  he  was 
established  in  Paris,  with  the  recently  married  Mrs.  Whistler,  in 
his  apartment  of  the  Rue  du  Bac.  The  marriage  was  a  happy 
one  ;  she  appreciated  fully  his  talent,  he  adored  her,  and  when 
she  died  a  few  years  later,  was  crushed  at  her  loss.  In  spite  of 
the  great  influence  exercised  by  Whistler  on  contemporary  art, 
he  was  never  honised  in  Paris  as  he  had  been  in  London  ;  Paris 
is  not  the  place  for  hons  ;  there  are  already  too  many  local  cele- 
brities. With  few  exceptions,  the  French  artists  did  not  frequent 
him.  I  remember  Duez  saying  a  propos  of  Whistler's  sUght 
relations  with  his  French  confreres  :  '  //  vaut  mieux  croire  au 
Christ  que  de  le  voir.  Perhaps  one  of  the  reasons  why  the  French 
artists  held  aloof  from  Whistler  was  Mrs.  Wliistler's  very  British 
attitude  towards  that  nation.  Once,  at  a  dinner  of  French 
artists  given  at  our  house  in  honour  of  Whistler,  Mrs.  Wliistler 
expressed  the  most  Gallophobe  sentiments,  complaining  loudly 
of  the  inhospitality  of  the  French  towards  her  husband.  Whistler's 
social  circle  in  Paris  consisted  of  Mallarme,  Robert  de  Montes- 
quiou,  Viele-Griffin  and  Theodore  Buret,  one  or  two  American 
artists,  and  a  large  following  of  American  art  students.  He  had 
a  great  charm  for  youth  ;  the  society  of  young  people  brought  out 
his  best  qualities,  and  they  were  fascinated  by  his  personal 
magnetism.  He  used  to  give  delightful  breakfasts  in  the  Rue  du 
Bac,  the  table  always  tastefully  decorated  by  the  master  of  the 
house  with  dainty  '  arrangements  '  in  old  '  blue  and  white,'  in 
eighteenth-century  silver  and  flowers — everywhere  in  the  apart- 
1«94]  153 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

ment  the  touch  of  the  man  of  taste  was  visible.  Whistler  was 
subtle  to  a  degree :  he  had  a  finesse  rarely  found  in  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  race.  Although  well  over  sixty  years  when  I  knew  liim — 
[he  was  just  sixty  in  1894] — he  had  the  enthusiasm  and  energy  of 
the  early  years.  His  very  handsome  grey-blue  eyes  still  sparkled 
with  the  fire  of  youth — they  were  young  eyes  in  an  old  face.  I 
think  it  strange  that  no  one  ever  seems  to  emphasise  liis  singular 
beauty.  Not  only  were  his  features  finely  cut,  but  the  symmetry 
of  his  figure,  hands  and  feet,  retained  until  late  in  life,  was  re- 
markable ;  in  youth  he  must  have  been  a  pocket  Apollo.  I  never 
thought  WTiistler's  wit  of  a  high  order  ;  it  was  not  spontaneous. 
His  conversational  powers  were,  however,  extraordinary — he  had 
a  Celtic  richness  of  vocabulary.  But  he  was  intensely  amusing  on 
the  subject  of  his  quarrels,  and  these  afforded  full  opportunity 
for  his  undoubted  eloquence.  As  precious  as  was  his  fame, 
artistic  and  literary,  to  him,  his  famous  fights,  both  ^vith  tongue 
and  pen,  seemed  to  arouse  even  deeper  sentiments.  His  anger 
at  Du  Maurier,  for  the  not  too  amiable  sketch  of  him  in  the  first 
edition  of  Trilby,  was  violent  enough.  But  the  Sir  WiUiam  Eden 
case  stirred  the  very  depths  of  his  being.  \ATien  relating  the  oft- 
told  tale  to  me,  he  used  to  grasp  my  arm  -n-ith  such  frenzy,  in 
order  to  impress  his  point  upon  me,  that  he  almost  seemed  to 
mistake  me  for  the  offending  Baronet.  His  combativeness  may 
be  traced  directly  to  his  Irish  blood.  But  besides  atavistic  pug- 
nacity, another  casus  belli  was  his  super-sensitiveness  to  any 
kind  of  criticism.  Those  who  were  either  indifferent  or  anti- 
pathetic to  him,  his  imagination  instantly  transformed  into 
hidden  enemies.  That  weakness  of  the  artistic  temperament, 
la  folic  de  la  persecution,  was  deeply  rooted  in  his  nature.  The 
South  African  War  was  also  a  burning  topic  with  him  for  many 
months.  He  was,  of  course,  pro-Boer  in  his  sympathies,  as,  in 
any  conflict  in  which  England  had  been  engaged,  he  would  have 
been  sure  to  have  ranged  himself  on  the  side  of  her  adversary. 
This  ungracious  attitude  towards  England  was,  I  think,  partly  pose, 
partly  caused  by  the  Enghsh  inabUity  to  appreciate  his  subtlety. 
And  yet  Whistler  would  never  have  attained  his  prestige  as  a 
celebrity  had  he  not  Uved  in  London. 

"  No  one  can  realise,  who  has  not  watched  WTiistler  paint,  the 
agony  that  his  work  gave  him.     I  have  seen  him,  after  a  day's 
struggle  with  a  picture,  when  things  did  not  go,  completely  col- 
lapse, as  from  an  illness.      His  drawing  cost  him  infinite  trouble. 
154  [189^' 


PORTRAIT  OF  MISS  KINSELl.A 

lioxc  and  Green,  The  his 


PARIS 

I  have  known  him  work  two  weeks  on  a  hand,  and  then  give  it 
up  discouraged.  It  was  no  uncommon  thing  for  him  to  require 
eighty  to  a  hundred  sittings  for  a  portrait.  His  painting-table 
was  a  curious  study,  meticulously  laid  out,  and  scrupulously  neat. 
My  last  interview  vnth  Whistler  took  place  in  the  spring  of  1903, 
in  London,  about  two  months  before  his  death.  Hearing  that 
he  was  far  from  well,  I  went  to  see  him,  and  found  that  the  rumour 
was  only  too  well  grounded.  I  spent  the  afternoon  with  him — 
he  was  singularly  gentle  and  affectionate,  and  clung  to  me  pathetic- 
ally, as  though  he  too  realised  that  it  was  to  be  our  last  meeting 
in  this  world. 

"  \Miatever  his  detractors  may  charge  against  him,  it  seems  to 
me  that  Whistler's  faults  and  weaknesses  sprang  from  an  un- 
balanced mentality  ;  he  was  a  desequilihrc,  the  common  defect 
of  great  painters.  The  unusual  combination  of  artistic  genius, 
literary  gifts  and  social  attractions  which  made  up  Whistler's 
personality,  was  unique  ;  there  was  never  anybody  Uke  him. 
And  there  is  another  quahty  of  his  which  must  not  be  forgotten 
in  the  summing  up  of  his  character  :  underneath  all  his  vagaries 
and  eccentricities,  one  felt  that  indefinable  yet  unmistakable 
being — a  gentleman." 

Mr.   Alexander  Harrison   shows  a  very  different  side  of 
Whistler  in  the  following  note  : 

"  I  chanced  to  call  upon  him  an  hour  after  he  had  received  the 
news  of  his  brother's  death,  and  with  quivering  voice  and  tears 
in  his  eyes,  he  told  me  that  he  considered  me  a  friend,  and  told 
me  the  sad  news,  and  asked  me  to  dine  with  him.  My  meetings 
with  him  were  frequent  and  friendly.  On  one  occasion,  in  a 
moment  of  excitement  I  had  the  audacity  to  tell  him  that  I  felt 
that  he  ought  to  have  acted  differently  w's-d- vis  a  jury  of  reception. 
His  eyes  flamed  like  a  rattlesnake's,  and  I  apologised,  but  insisted 
and  then  dodged  a  little.  I  afterwards  realised  that  my  naive 
frankness  had  not  lowered  me  in  his  esteem,  as  to  the  last  he  was 
nice  to  me — having  realised  that  my  admiration  for  his  work  was 
no  greater  than  my  affectionate  regard  for  his  sensitive  and 
courageous  human  temperament — at  times  a  child  of  impulsiveness. 
"  I  have  never  kno^vn  a  man  of  more  sincere  and  genuine  im- 
pulse even  in  ordinary  human  relations,  and  I  am  convinced  that 
no  man  ever  existed  who  could  have  been  more  easily  controlled 
1891]  155 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

on  lines  of  response  to  a  '  fair  and  square  '  appreciation  of  his 
genuine  qualities,  ^^^len  off  his  guard,  he  was  often  a  pathetic 
kid,  and  I  have  spotted  him  in  bashful  moods,  although  it  would 
be  hard  to  convince  the  bourgeois  of  this.  Wit,  pathos,  gentle- 
ness, affection,  audacity,  acridity,  tenacity,  were  brought  instantly 
to  the  sensitive  surface  hke  a  flash,  by  rough  contact." 

Now  that  Whistler  was  well  established,  for  life  as  he 
hoped,  in  a  fine  studio,  he  was  making  up  for  the  unsettled 
years  that  followed  his  marriage.  He  began  a  number  of 
large  portraits  in  the  Rue  Notre-Dame-des-Champs.  In 
1893,  Mr.  A.  J.  Eddy,  known,  we  believe,  to  fame  and  Chicago 
as  the  man  Whistler  painted,  asked  Whistler  to  do  his  por- 
trait. He  could  stay  in  Paris  only  a  few  weeks,  and  Whistler 
liked  his  straightforward  American  frankness  in  saying  that 
his  portrait  must  be  done  by  a  certain  date,  and,  though 
unaccustomed  to  be  held  by  any  limitations  of  time.  Whistler 
agreed  to  the  conditions.  His  description  of  Mr.  Eddy  was, 
"  Well,  you  know,  he  is  the  only  man  who  ever  did  get  a 
picture  out  of  me  on  time,  while  I  worked  and  he  waited  !  " 
Mr.  Eddy  writes  of  a  sitter,  no  doubt  himself,  who  was  with 
Wliistler  "  everj'  day  for  nearly  six  weeks  and  never  heard 
him  utter  an  impatient  word  ;  on  the  contrary,  he  was  all 
kindness."  And  Mr.  Eddy  describes  ^Vhistler  painting  on 
in  the  twilight,  until  it  was  almost  impossible  to  distinguish 
between  the  living  man  and  the  figure  on  the  canvas.  He 
revels  in  the  memory  of  those  "  glorious  "  days  he  spent  in 
the  studio,  of  the  pleasant  hour  at  noon  when  painter  and 
sitter  breakfasted  there  together,  or  of  the  prolonged  sittings, 
and  the  dinner  afterAvards  at  the  Rue  du  Bac,  or  in  one  of 
the  little  Paris  restaurants,  where  no  Parisian  was  more  at 
home  than  Whistler.  But  steadily  as  the  work  went  on, 
the  picture  was  not  sent  to  Chicago  until  the  follo^NTng  year. 
]Mr.  J.  J.  Cowan,  whose  portrait  also  dates  from  this  time, 
tells  us  that  for  The  Grey  Man,  though  it  is  a  small 
156  [1894 


STLDIKS    FOK    "VVKAl.V 

(('/iiiinitii  Dnnoiiif/s) 


\ 


ILi»»,J 


WK.VKY 

( Drij-imint) 


PARIS 

picture,  he  must  have  given  Whistler  about  sixty  sittings, 
averaging  each  three  to  four  hours.  He,  Hke  Whistler,  was 
not  in  a  hurry.  The  last  sittings  were  in  London,  three 
years  after  the  picture  was  begun.  It  always  seemed  as  if 
the  head  needed  just  the  one  touch,  with  the  sitter  there, 
so  that  perfection  might  be  assured. 

The  portraits  of  women  were  more  numerous,  and  they 
promised  to  be  as  fine  as  those  of  the  'seventies  and  'eighties. 
But  the  work  was  interrupted  by  the  tragedy  of  Whistler's  last 
years,  and  the  more  important  were  never  completed.  Two 
have  disappeared.  For  one  of  these.  Miss  Charlotte  Williams  of 
Baltimore,  sat,  of  whom,  nevertheless,  a  rare  lithograph  exists. 
The  other  lost  portrait  was  a  large  full-length  of  Miss  Peck 
of  Chicago,  now  Mrs.  W.  R.  Farquhar,  which  we  saw  often, 
in  many  stages,  and  at  last,  it  seemed  to  us,  finished.  Miss 
Peck  was  painted  standing,  in  evening  dress,  with  her  long 
white,  green-lined  cloak  thrown  back,  a  little  as  he  had  painted 
Lady  Meux.  It  was  full  of  the  charm  of  youth,  and  the 
colour  was  a  harmony  in  silver  and  green.  Miss  Kinsella, 
a  third  American  girl  who  first  posed  in  the  Rue  Notre- 
Dame-des-Champs,  and  afterwards  in  Fitzroy  Street,  London, 
secured  her  portrait  after  Whistler's  death,  when  it  was  a 
mere  phantom  of  its  former  self,  painted  over  and  over,  and 
yet  left  unfinished,  though  it  still  conveys  an  impression  of 
the  first  splendid  beauty  of  the  picture,  and  the  charm  of 
the  colour  scheme.  Rose  and  Green,  remains.  We  saw  it 
in  the  Fitzroy  Street  studio  when  it  was  so  perfect  that  one 
more  day's  work  seemed  to  us  a  danger.  But  Whistler 
scraped  it  out  and  painted  it  over  ruthlessly,  never  satisfied, 
always  striving  to  improve,  though  nobody  could  help,  at 
one  moment,  feeling  that  to  change  anything  must  be  to  the 
picture's  disadvantage.  In  no  other  portrait  did  he  ever 
paint  flesh  with  such  perfection.  Face  and  neck  had  the 
rich  golden  quality  of  a  Titian,  with  a  subtlety  of  modelling 
1894]  157 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

beyond  even  the  Venetian  master.  One  day,  when  E.  went 
to  the  studio,  he  had  just  scraped  down  neck  and  bust 
for  no  other  reason  she  could  discover  than  because  he  could 
not  get  the  hand  to  come  right  with  the  rest  of  it.  It  was 
to  be  lovelier  than  ever,  he  said.  It  retains  but  a  shadow 
of  its  old  loveliness.  When  M.  Rodin  saw  it  at  the  London 
Memorial  Exhibition,  he  praised  neck  and  bust  as  "  a  beau- 
tiful suggestion  of  lace,"  so  badly  disfigured  by  scraping  and 
repainting  had  this  most  perfect  piece  of  flesh-painting 
become.  Portraits  of  Mrs.  Charles  Whibley  were  in  progress 
about  the  same  time :  UAndalouse,  Mother  of  Pearl  and 
Silver,  now  the  property  of  Mr.  John  H.  Whittemore,  the 
unfinished  Tulip,  Rose  and  Gold,  and  Red  and  Black,  The 
Fan.  Two  others  of  this  period  are  of  Sirs.  W^alter  Sickert, 
Green  and  Violet,  the  second  for  which  she  sat,  and  Lady 
Eden,  Brown  and  Gold,  destined  to  make  more  talk  than  any 
other  picture  he  ever  painted.  He  was  also  painting  his  own 
portrait  in  the  white  jacket  which  was  changed  into  a  dark 
coat  after  Mrs.  Whistler's  death. 

The  large  canvases  had  to  be  left  when  he  shut  the  studio 
door  behind  him,  but  wherever  he  went,  he  could  carry  his 
little  portfolio  of  lithographic  paper  and  box  of  chalks,  and, 
during  those  two  or  three  years,  he  developed  the  art  of 
lithography  as  no  one  had  before,  he  and  Fantin-Latour  being 
the  two  chief  factors  in  the  revival  of  lithography  during  the 
'nineties.  He  was  determined,  he  said,  to  make  "  a  roaring 
success  of  it."  In  the  streets  and  at  home  in  the  Rue  du 
Bac,  everywhere  and  at  all  hours,  he  was  making  his  drawings, 
and  the  result  is  the  series  of  lithographs  of  the  shops  and 
gardens  and  galleries  of  Paris,  and  the  many  portraits, 
especially  of  his  wife.  His  interest  in  the  technical  side  of 
it  was  tireless.  He  continued  to  be  indefatigable  in  his 
experiments  with  transfer  paper  and  in  his  pursuit  of  old  paper 
for  printing.  Drawings  and  proofs  were  continually  going 
158  [ispl 


PARIS 

and  coming  between  Paris  and  London,  where  the  Ways  were 
now  doing  almost  all  the  transferring  and  printing  for  him, 
and  friends  were  never  allowed  to  go  from  the  Rue  du  Bac 
on  their  return  to  England,  without  being  entrusted  with  a 
package  for  the  lithographers.  He  was  deep,  too,  in  his  ex- 
periments with  colour,  and  a  few  of  the  lithographs  for  Songs 
on  Stone,  already  announced  by  Mr.  Heinemann,  were  at 
last  done.  But  they  were  printed  in  Paris  by  Belfont,  whose 
shop  was  closed  in  1894,  printer  and  stones  vanished,  and 
this  was  the  end  of  the  proposed  publication.  Since  Whistler's 
death,  mysterious  prints,  in  black-and-white,  from  some  of 
the  stones  have  appeared  in  Germany.  But  only  a  few 
prints  in  colour  remain,  no  two  alike,  for  they  were  really 
trial  pulls  of  different  colours.  He  had  looked  for  great  things : 
"  You  know,  I  mean  them  to  wipe  up  the  place  before  I  get 
done,"  he  said,  and  their  loss  was  a  severe  disappointment. 
Other  lithographs,  made  then  or  later,  were  published  in 
the  Studio,  the  Art  Journal,  the  Architectural  Review, 
L'Estampe  Originale,  and  one  in  our  Lithography  and 
Lithographers.  He  never  wanted  to  keep  his  work,  no  matter 
in  what  medium,  from  the  public.  With  the  many  com- 
missions and  experiments  that  were  keeping  him  busy  in 
Paris,  Whistler  was  truly,  as  he  wrote  to  us  in  London, 
working  from  morning  to  night,  and  in  a  condition  for  it  he 
wouldn't  change  for  anything.  He  was  compelled  to  change 
it  only  too  soon. 


I89t]  159 


CHAPTER  XXXIX.  TRIALS  AND  GRIEFS. 
THE  YEARS  EIGHTEEN  NINETY-FOUR  TO 
EIGHTEEN  NINETY-SIX 

IN  1894,  interruptions  came  to    the  happy  condition  ol 
things  in  the  studio,  some  shght,  but  one  so  grave  that 
life  and  work  were  never  quite  the  same  to  Whistler  again. 

One  of  the  smaller  annoyances  was  caused  by  Du  Maurier's 
novel  Trilby,  which  was  appearing  in  Harper^s  Magazine. 
Du  Maurier  represented  the  English  students  at  Carrel's 
(Gleyre's)  as  veritable  Crichtons,  while  Whistler,  under  the 
name  of  Joe  Sibley,  was  held  up  to  ridicule.  Du  Maurier's 
drawings  left  no  doubt  as  to  the  identity  of  his  model,  for 
there,  in  one,  is  Whistler,  a  full-length  figure,  wearing  the 
well-known  chapeau  bizarre  over  his  curls.  Du  Maurier  was 
not  content  with  this.  Another  drawing  shows  Whistler  as 
the  first  to  run  away  in  a  studio  fight,  and  the  text  is  as 
offensive.     Joe  Sibley  is 

"  '  the  Idle  Apprentice,'  the  King  of  Bohemia,  le  roi  des  truands, 
to  whom  everything  was  forgiven,  as  to  Francois  Villon,  a  cause  de 
ses  gentillesses  .  .  .  always  in  debt  .  .  .  vain,  witty,  and  a  most 
exquisite  and  original  artist  .  .  .  with  an  unimpeachable  moral 
tone  .  .  .  also  eccentric  in  his  attire  .  .  .  the  most  irresistible 
friend  in  the  world  as  long  as  his  friendship  lasted — but  that  was 
not  for  ever  !  .  .  .  his  enmity  would  take  the  simple  and  straight- 
forward form  of  trjring  to  punch  his  ex-friend's  head ;  and 
when  the  ex-friend  was  too  big,  he  would  get  some  new  friend  to 
help  him.  .  .  .  His  bark  was  worse  than  his  bite  ...  he  was 
better  with  his  tongue  than  his  fists.  .  .  .  But  wlien  he  met 
another  joker,  he  would  just  coUapse  Hke  a  pricked  bladder. 
He  is  now  perched  on  such  a  topping  pinnacle  (of  fame  and 
i6o  [189-t 


TRIALS    AND    GRIEFS 

notoriety  combined)  that  people  can  stare  at  him  from  two 
hemispheres  at  once." 

Whistler  was  the  more  indignant  because  Du  Maurier  had 
been  his  friend  for  years,  and  he  wrote  in  protest  to  the  Pall 
Mall  Gazette.  Du  Maurier,  in  an  interview  which  followed, 
expressed  surprise  at  Whistler's  indignation.  He  thought 
the  description  of  Joe  Sibley  could  only  recall  some  of  the 
good  times  they  had  had  together  in  Paris,  and  he  seemed 
amazed  that  Whistler  did  not  delight  in  it.  He  claimed 
that  he  himself  was  one  of  Whistler's  victims,  and  quoted 
from  Sheridan  Ford's  pirated  edition  of  The  Gentle  Art  : 

"  It  is  rather  droll.  Listen  :  '  Mr.  Du  Maurier  and  Mr.  Wilde 
liappening  to  meet  in  the  rooms  where  Mr.  Whistler  was  holding 
his  first  exhibition  of  Venice  etchings,  the  latter  brought  the  two 
face  to  face,  and,  taking  each  by  the  arm,  inquired,  "  I  say,  which 
one  of  you  two  invented  the  other,  eh  ?  "  '  The  obvious  retort  to 
that,  on  my  part,  would  have  been,  that,  if  he  did  not  take  care, 
I  would  invent  him,  but  he  had  sUpped  away  before  either  of  us 
could  get  a  word  out.  ...  I  did  wliat  I  did  in  a  playful  spirit 
of  retaliation  for  this  little  jibe  about  me  in  his  book." 

The  Editor  of  Harper's  had  not  understood  the  offensive 
nature  of  the  passages.  Once  Whistler  called  Messrs.  Harper's 
attention  to  it,  they  apologised  : 

"  If  we  had  had  any  knowledge  of  personal  reference  to  yourself 
being  intended,  we  should  not  have  permitted  the  publication  of 
such  passages," 

and  the  apology  was  inserted  in  the  January  number  of  the 
Magazine  (1895).  The  name  was  changed  to  Anthony  and 
the  objectionable  passages  altered  when  the  story  appeared 
as  a  book.  Whistler,  consulted  beforehand,  was  satisfied. 
But,  as  he  said  : 

"  Well,  you  know,  what  would  have  happened  to   the  new 

Thackeray  if  I  hadn't  been  willing  ?     But  I  was  gracious,  and  I 

gave  my  approval  to  the  sudden  appearance  in  the  story  of  an 

1894]  n:L  l6l 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

Anthony,  tall  and  stout  and  slightly  bald.  The  dangerous 
resemblance  was  gone.  And  I  wired — well,  you  know,  ha  !  ha  ! 
— I  ■n"ired  to  them  over  in  America,  '  Compliments  and  complete 
approval  of  author's  new  and  obscure  friend.  Bald  Anthony  !  '  " 

"Wlien  Trilby  was  burlesqued  at  the  Gaiety,  Whistler  was 
brought  on  the  stage  as  The  Stranger.  His  hat,  overcoat, 
eyeglass,  curls  and  cane  were  fairly  well  copied,  but  no  one 
paid  the  slightest  attention,  and  The  Stranger,  we  believe, 
never  appeared  after  the  first  night. 

Many  people  thought  Whistler  over-sensitive.  But  the 
success  of  1892  had  brought  him  the  sort  of  attention  in  print 
he  least  cared  for,  and  was  least  willing  to  submit  to.  Despite 
the  steps  he  took  in  the  case  of  Du  Maurier,  he  was  constantly 
annoyed  by  what  he  considered  perversions  of  his  character 
and  his  work.  He  was  sometimes  mistaken,  as  in  the  case  of 
a  Bibliography,  compiled  in  1895  for  the  State  Library  Bulletin 
of  the  University  of  the  State  of  New  York.  It  was  under- 
taken in  appreciation  of  him  as  artist,  but  it  contained  in- 
accuracies and  it  quoted  as  authorities  critics  he  objected  to, 
and  he  was,  unfortunately,  more  vexed  by  it  than  there 
was  really  any  need  to  be.  Another  source  of  annoyance 
was,  a  little  later,  an  unsigned  article  in  McClure's  Magazine, 
entitled  Whistler,  Painter  and  Comedian.  He  demanded  an 
apology  and  suppression  of  the  article,  and  both  were  granted 
wath  the  same  courtesy  shown  by  Messrs.  Harper.  And  so 
it  went  on  to  the  very  end,  and  he  was  continually  coming 
upon  references  to  himself,  disfigured  by  misunderstandings 
and,  as  he  thought,  misrepresentations  and  malice. 

All  these  worries  occupied  \\Tiistler's  time  and  tried  his 
temper.  But  they  faded  into  nothing  when  he  was  over- 
whelmed, late  in  1894,  by  a  trouble  infinitely  more  serious  and 
tragic.  His  wife  was  taken  ill  with  the  most  terrible  of 
diseases — cancer.  They  came  to  London  to  consult  the 
Doctors  in  December.  Part  of  the  time  they  stayed  at  Long's 
162  [1895 


TRIALS    AND    GRIEFS 

Hotel  in  Bond  Street,  Mrs.  Whistler  now  surrounded  by  her 
numerous  sisters,  the  two  Paris  servants,  Louise  and  Constant, 
in  attendance  ;  part  of  the  time  Mrs.  Whistler  was  under  a 
doctor's  care  in  Holies  Street,  and  Whistler  with  his  brother 
and  his  brother's  wife  in  Wimpole  Street.  Those  who  loved 
Whistler  would  like  to  forget  his  misery  during  the  weeks  and 
months  that  followed.  We  saw  much  of  him.  Work  was 
going  on  somehow  :  not  the  paintings,  for  they  waited  in 
the  Paris  studio,  but  lithography  was  an  unfailing  resource 
to  him.  He  made  many  lithographs  :  a  portrait  of  Lady 
Haden,  a  drawing  in  Wellington  Street,  and  others  here  and 
there.  But  he  told  Mr.  Way  afterwards  that  he  wanted 
them  destroyed,  he  should  not  have  worked  when  his  heart 
was  not  in  it — "  it  was  madness  on  his  part."  He  brought 
proofs  to  show  us.  Almost  every  afternoon  he  would  come, 
and  take  J.  to  Way's,  where  the  lithographs  were  being  trans- 
ferred to  the  stone  and  printed.  He  would  lunch  and  dine 
with  us,  always  keeping  up  his  brave  outward  appearance, 
though  we  could  not  help  knowing  what  was  in  his  heart. 
He  had  been  in  his  "  palatial  residence  "  barely  two  years, 
when  it  was  closed,  and  the  canvases  were  left  untouched  in 
the  "  stupendous  studio."  New  honours  and  new  successes 
followed  fast  upon  the  triumph  of  1892 — in  1894,  the  Temple 
Gold  Medal  from  the  Pennsylvania  Academy,  in  1895  a  Gold 
Medal  from  Antwerp,  too  many,  indeed,  to  follow.  And  it 
was  now,  just  as  fortune  rose  on  the  horizon,  that  the  blow 
fell,  and  new  and  heart-breaking  responsibilities  were  heaped 
upon  his  shoulders. 

The  Eden  trial,  which  struck  many  as  an  unnecessary  and 
almost  farcial  episode  in  his  life,  distracted  him  during  the 
most  tragic  months,  and  his  persistent  tenacity  over  a  matter 
comparatively  trivial  may  have  been,  as  we  have  heard  it 
suggested,  due  to  his  endeavour  to  escape  from  the  fears  that 
haunted  him.  His  work  practically  ceased  for  weeks  and 
1894]  163 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

weeks  at  a  time,  and  he  forced  himself  to  almost  unnatural 
concentration  on  the  details  of  the  case.  His  journeys  to 
Paris  were  frequent  of  necessity,  and  his  correspondence  with 
people  whom  he  wanted  to  consult  and  whose  ojiinion  he 
wished  to  influence  was  enormous.  The  case  was  fought  out 
in  the  civil  courts  of  France,  which  unfortunately  allowed 
WTiistler  no  opportunity  of  gi\nng  personal  testimony.  The 
object  of  the  case  is  probably  known  to  most  people.  It 
arose  out  of  the  uncertainty  as  to  the  price  which  Sir 
William  Eden  should  pay  for  his  wife's  portrait.  He  was  in- 
troduced to  ^Miistler  by  Mr.  George  Moore,  to  whom  >Miistler 
had  mentioned  one  hundred  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds 
for  a  sketch  in  water-colour  or  pastel.  Whistler  became 
interested  in  his  sitter,  and  produced  a  very  fine  little  oil 
painting,  to  which,  under  other  circumstances,  he  would  have 
attached  a  far  higher  value  than  the  sum  suggested.  His 
irritation,  therefore,  can  be  understood  when  Sir  William 
Eden  attempted  to  make  him  accept  in  payment  as  "  a 
valentine  " — for  it  was  paid  on  February  14 — the  sum  of 
one  hundred  guineas.  Whistler  felt  that  it  should  have 
been  left  to  him,  the  artist,  to  decide.  He  refused  to 
give  up  the  picture,  and  he  returned  the  money  only  when 
legal  proceedings  were  taken  by  "  the  Baronet."  Before 
the  case  came  into  court,  he  went  so  far  as  to  wipe  out  the 
portrait,  which,  of  course,  prejudiced  him  in  the  eyes  of  the 
judge. 

\Miistler  was  in  Paris  for  the  trial  before  the  Civil  Tribunal 
on  March  6  (1895).  His  advocates  were  Maitre  Ratier,  by 
whose  side  he  sat  in  court,  and  Maitre  Beurdeley,  a  collector 
of  his  etchings.  Sir  William  Eden  did  not  appear,  ^^^listle^ 
was  ordered  to  deliver  the  portrait  as  originally  painted,  a 
penalty  to  be  imposed  in  case  of  undue  delay  ;  to  refund  one 
hundred  guineas,  the  price  of  the  portrait ;  to  pay  in  addition 
one  thousand  francs  damages.  The  judgment  went  on  to 
164  [18().> 


TRIALS    AND    GRIEFS 

assert  that  he  was  in  honour  bound  not  to  interfere  with  the 
portrait  after  he  had  completed  it,  and  to  make  it  clear 
that  an  artist,  however  prominent,  must  carry  out  his  contract. 

To  Whistler,  this  judgment  seemed  unfair,  and  he  decided 
to  appeal  against  it  in  the  Cour  de  Cassation,  which  dragged 
the  matter  on  until  after  the  great  blow  of  jMts.  Whistler's 
death  had  fallen.  History  repeats  itself,  and  it  is  curious  to 
note  that  though,  in  England,  "  An  Artist  "  tried  to  raise  a 
fund  to  pay  the  expenses  of  the  trial,  in  order  "  to  show  in 
some  practical  form  artists'  appreciation  for  the  genius  of 
James  McNeill  Whistler,"  the  effort,  responded  to  by  only 
one  other  artist,  Mr.  Frederick  MacMonnies,  was  as  un- 
successful as  after  the  Ruskin  trial  in  1878. 

Throughout  the  Eden  affair,  jMr.  George  IMoore  had  been  pro- 
minent ;  the  go-between  when  the  portrait  was  commissioned. 
Sir  William  Eden's  ally  in  the  legal  business,  a  conspicuous 
figure  in  the  various  newspaper  controversies.  After  the 
trial  Whistler  wrote  to  him  a  scathing  letter  on  the  part  he 
had  played.  George  Moore's  answer  was  to  twit  Whistler 
with  old  age.  This  was  published  in  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette  and 
reprinted  in  the  French  papers.  Whistler  was  living  in  France 
and  had  therefore  no  alternative  but  to  send  George  Moore 
the  challenge  which,  in  the  French  code  of  honour,  was  in- 
evitable. Whistler's  seconds  were  M.  Octave  Mirbeau  and 
M.  Viele-Griffin.  Their  challenge  remained  unheeded,  and 
reporters  hurrying  to  George  Moore's  chambers  in  the  Temple 
found  him  flown.  London  was  once  more  amused,  and 
looked  upon  the  challenge  as  Whistler's  crowning  joke.  It 
was  no  joke  to  Mr.  Moore,  who  was  sufficiently  conversant 
with  French  manners  to  know  how  his  silence  must  be  inter- 
preted in  Paris.  Whistler's  seconds  sent  a  proces  verbal  to 
the  press,  to  state  that  they  had  waited  eight  days  for  an 
answer,  and,  not  having  received  one,  they  considered  their 
mission  terminated. 
1«95]  165 


JAMES    McXEILL    WHISTLER 

Thus,  before  the  world,  AMiistler  kept  up  the  game,  though 
in  the  Rue  du  Bac  hfe  was  a  tragedy.  Mrs.  ^Miistler  had 
returned  more  ill  than  ever.  Miss  Ethel  Birnie  Philip  was 
married  from  the  house  early  in  the  summer  to  Mr.  Charles 
^^^lible3•,  and  her  sister,  Rosalind,  took  her  place  in  the 
household. 

After  the  trial,  Whistler  went  back  to  work  as  best  he  could, 
interesting  himself  in  galleries  and  exhibitions.  He  sent 
The  Little  White  Girl  to  the  International  Exhibition  at 
Venice  ;  he  exhibited  the  new  portrait  of  Mrs.  Sickert  at  the 
Glasgow  Institute  ;  he  chose  six  lithographs  for  the  Centenary 
Exhibition  to  be  held  in  Paris  the  foUoAnng  autumn.  A 
little  head  of  '•  Carmen,"  his  model,  was  ready  for  the  Portrait 
Painters.  ^Vlien,  in  the  late  summer,  he  returned  to  England, 
and,  with  Mrs.  Wliistler,  settled  down  for  the  fall  at  the  Red 
Lion  Hotel  in  Ljine  Regis,  he  arranged  for  a  show  of  his  own 
lithographs  in  London.  The  Society  of  Illustrators,  of  which 
he  was  a  Vice-President,  was  preparing  an  anthology.  The 
London  Garland,  edited  by  W.  E.  Henley,  illustrated  by 
members  of  the  Society,  and  published  by  Messrs.  Macmillan 
and  Co.  At  the  first  appeal  from  J.  he  agreed  to  contribute 
an  illustration  to  a  sonnet  of  Henley's,  with  the  intention  of 
making  an  original  drawing  for  the  book.  But,  in  the  end, 
he  had  to  abandon  this  plan  and  merely  allowed  a  Nocturne  to 
be  reproduced.  He  went  on  with  his  lithographs  at  LjTne 
Regis,  and  made  an  extraordinary  series,  in  which  appear  the 
glowing  forges,  the  dark  stables,  with  horses  an  animal  painter 
would  envy,  and  the  portraits  of  the  smith  and  the  landlord. 
"  Absolute  failures,  some,"  he  told  us  sadly  ;  "  others,  well, 
you  know,  not  bad  !  "  Two  of  the  pictures  painted  there  are 
masterpieces  :  The  Little  Rose  of  Lyme  Regis  and  The  Master 
Smith.  In  these,  he  always  said  he  really  had  solved  the 
problem  of  carrying  on  his  work  as  he  wished  to  until  it  was 
finished,  and,  technically,  they  are  as  accomplished  as  any- 
i66  [1S95 


THE   LITTLK   ItOSK  OF   I.V.MK    liKGIS 


TRIALS    AND    GRIEFS 

thing  he  ever  did.  It  was  then  also  he  painted  the  only  large 
landscape  we  know  of  :  a  few  white  houses  of  the  little  town 
with  the  hillside  and  trees  beyond. 

While  he  was  at  Lyme  Regis  the  news  came  of  the  prize 
awarded  him  in  Venice.  Several  prizes  in  money  were  given 
in  different  sections,  for  different  subjects,  to  artists  of  different 
nationalities.  Whistler  was  awarded  the  prize  of  two  thou- 
sand five  hundred  francs,  offered  by  the  City  of  Murano, 
which  happened  to  come  seventh  in  the  list.  He  knew  his 
"  enemies,"  foresaw  the  prattle  there  would  be  of  the  seventh- 
hand  compliment  paid  him,  and  forestalled  this  by  explaining 
in  the  press  how  the  prizes  had  been  awarded,  his  being  equal 
in  importance  to  the  first,  the  only  difference  being  that  it 
came  from  another  source. 

The  exhibition  of  his  lithographs  was  held  in  December 
(1895).  Seventy  were  shown,  mostly  the  work  of  the  last 
few  years,  and  J.  wrote  the  introduction  to  the  catalogue, 
the  only  time  he  allowed  anybody  to  "  introduce  "  him  in  this 
fashion.  There  were  no  special  decorations,  but  the  prints 
were  all  in  frames  of  his  designing.  English  artists  had  been 
interested  in  lithography  because  they  were  asked  to  contribute 
to  the  Centenary  Exhibition  in  Paris,  and,  at  the  call  of 
Leighton,  they  tried  their  hands  at  it,  more  or  less  unsuccess- 
fully. The  contrast  was  great  between  their  work,  shown  at 
Mr.  Dunthorne's  gallery,  and  Whistler's,  whose  prints  alone 
are  probably  destined  to  live. 

Whistler  derived  but  little  pleasure  from  this  triumph. 
The  winter  was  spent  in  moving  from  place  to  place.  At  one 
moment  his  plans  were  made  to  go  to  New  York  to  consult 
an''American  doctor,  he  forgetting  as  well  as  he  could  what  he 
called  "  the  vast  far-offness  "  of  America,  so  impressive  to 
him  hitherto  when  the  journey  had  been  thought  of.  In 
London,  they  stayed  first  at  Garlant's  Hotel  in  Suffolk  Street ; 
then  in  apartments,  Half  Moon  Street ;  at  De  Vere  Gardens 
1895]  167 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

Hotel,  Kensington  ;  and  at  the  Savoy.  Work  of  one  sort  or 
another  marked  these  changes  :  much  work  in  many  mediums 
at  Lyme  Regis  ;  the  Hthograph,  Kensington  Gardens,  while 
he  was  at  the  De  Vere  Hotel ;  those  most  pathetic  portraits 
of  his  wife  in  lithography,  The  Siesta  and  By  the  Balcony,  and 
the  lithographs  of  the  Thames  from  the  hotel  windows,  at 
the  Savoy.  He  had  during  the  first  months  no  studio  in 
London.  He  worked  for  a  while  in  Mr.  Walter  Sickert's  ; 
Mr.  Sargent  lent  his  to  Whistler  early  in  1896,  when  there 
was  talk  of  a  lithograph  of  Cecil  Rhodes  and  a  portrait  of 
j\Ir.  A.  J.  PoUitt,  of  whom  he  made  a  lithograph,  though  the 
painting,  which  was  splendidly  begun  later  in  Fitzroy  Street, 
was  afterwards  destroyed. 

He  still  found  time  to  interest  himself  in  the  experiments 
of  others.  In  the  winter  of  1895  J.  was  asked  by  the  Daily 
Chronicle  to  edit  the  illustration  of  a  series  of  articles  on  London 
in  support  of  the  County  Council,  then  Progressive.  It  was  an 
event  of  importance  to  illustrators,  process  men  and  printers  : 
the  first  effort  in  England  for  the  elaborate  illustration  of  a 
newspaper.  The  Daily  Graphic  was  illustrated,  but  its 
draughtsmen  were  trained  to  adapt  their  drawings  to  the 
printer.  The  idea  now  was  to  oblige  the  printer  to  adapt 
himself  to  the  illustrator.  Every  illustrator  of  note  in  London 
contributed.  Burne-Jones'  frontispiece  to  Morris'  News 
from  Nowhere  was  enlarged  and  printed  successfull3^  J. 
asked  Whistler  to  let  him  try  the  experiment  of  enlarging 
one  of  the  Thames  etchings.  Whistler  was  interested. 
Black  Lion  Wharf  was  selected  from  the  Thames  Set,  and  was 
printed  in  the  Daily  Chronicle,  February  22,  1895,  the  very 
day  of  the  month,  Washington's  Birthday,  when,  ten  years 
later,  the  London  Memorial  Exhibition  of  his  work  was 
opened.  With  its  publication,  the  success  of  the  series 
was  complete,  not  politically,  for  the  twenty-four  dra^vings 
were  said  to  have  lost  the  Progressives  twenty-five  seats, 
i68  [1895 


TRIALS    AND    GRIEFS 

but  artistically.      The  etching  stood  the  test  of  enlarging 
superbly,  silencing  any  doubts  of  Whistler  as  draughtsman. 

Whistler  came  to  us  almost  daily,  especially  during  his  stay 
at  the  Savoy,  in  1896,  when  we  were  neighbours.  Late  one 
afternoon  he  brought  his  lithographic  jjaper,  and  made  a  por- 
trait of  J.  as  he  sprawled  comfortably,  and  uncomfortably  had 
to  keep  up  the  pose,  in  an  easy-chair  before  the  fire.  Whistler 
made  four  portraits  in  succession  of  J.  and  one  of  E.,  each  the 
work  of  an  afternoon.  He  worked  on  into  the  darkness, 
especially  in  the  portrait  of  E.,  done  while  the  firelight  flickered 
on  her  face  and  on  his  paper.  He  told  us  he  had  taken  a 
studio  in  Fitzroy  Street,  so  that  he  could  paint  a  large  full- 
length  portrait  of  J.  in  a  Russian  cloak — The  Russian  Schube — 
which  he  thought  it  jirobable  the  Pennsylvania  Academy  of 
Fine  Arts  might  like  to  have.  But  J.  was  called  away  from 
town,  Mrs.  Whistler  grew  rapidly  worse,  and  the  scheme 
was  dropped,  never  to  be  taken  uji  again. 

On  other  afternoons  he  and  J.  would  go  to  Way's,  where 
the  new  Savoy  drawings  were  put  on  the  stone.  One,  how- 
ever, the  large  lithotint  of  The  Thames,  was  done  on  a  stone 
sent  to  him  at  the  hotel.  Old  drawings  made  in  Paris,  Lj'me 
Regis,  London,  were  taken  up  on  the  stone,  and  gone  all  over 
with  chalk  and  stump  and  scraper.  He  worked  in  a  little 
drawing-room  adjoining  Mr.  Thomas  Way's  office,  the  walls 
of  which  were  covered  with  pastels  and  water-colours  by  him 
and  Holloway.  There  he  drew  the  portraits  of  Mr.  Thomas 
Way,  as  he  stood,  lit  by  the  fire  alone,  and  also  subjects  seen 
from  the  windows,  working  until  dark,  when  Mr.  Way  would 
bring  out  some  rare  old  liqueur,  and  there  was  a  rest  before 
Whistler  hurried  back  to  the  Savoy.  His  nights  were  spent 
mostly  in  sitting  up  with  his  wife.  He  slept  a  little  in  the 
morning,  and  usually  retui-ned  to  us  in  the  afternoon,  and  there 
were  times  when  he  seemed  so  exhausted  that  we  wondered 
if  the  end  were  not  nearer  for  him  than  for  Mrs.  Whistler. 
189.'']  169 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

The  studio  at  No.  8  Fitzroy  Street  -svas  a  huge  place  at  the 
back  of  the  house,  one  flight  up,  and  reached  by  a  ramshackle 
glass-roofed  passage.  The  portrait  of  Mr.  Pollitt  was  started 
and  one  of  Mr.  Robert  Barr's  daughter,  which  also  has  dis- 
appeared. Mr.  Cowan  sat  again  for  his,  and  one  was  begun 
of  Mr.  S.  R.  Crockett,  who  has  sent  us,  in  reply  to  our 
inquiries  concerning  his  sittings,  the  following  interesting 
letter  : 

"  Alas  !  I  never  keep  letters,  that  being  (though  not  from  your 
present  point  of  view)  my  only  virtue.  I  have  none,  therefore,  of 
Whistler's.  He  usually  ^\Tote  on  scraps  of  b^o^^'n  paper  of 
various  shapes,  cut  by  himself  from  the  surroundings  of  panels. 
I  may  find  some  of  these  when  I  get  my  files  undone.  If  so,  you 
shall  have  them.  He  confined  himself,  however,  with  curious 
parsimony  of  words,  to  indications  as  to  where  we  were  to  lunch. 
Whistler  was  good  enough  to  ask  me  to  lunch  every  day  on  the 
terms  of  what  he  called  a  '  Jersey  treat,'  that  is,  we  were  each  to 
pay  for  ourselves  !  This  was,  however,  difiicult  for  the  waiter, 
to  whom  ^Vliistler  explained  mth  unmoved  countenance  that  I 
had  really  eaten  nine-tenths  of  the  meal  and  should  be  charged 
accordingly.  '  You  have  only  to  look  on  that  picture,'  he  said, 
pointing  at  me,  '  and  on  this  !  '  Finally,  we  compromised  by 
paying  for  our  lunches  day  about.  And  I  hunted  up  decent  places 
to  take  '  the  Master.'  I  felt  the  honoiu-,  I  can  assure  you,  and  I 
had  to  take  my  davy  that  the  wine  did  not  cost  more  than  three 
shillings  a  bottle.  '  No  wine  ought  to,'  was  his  dictum,  and  at 
Kettner's,  and  that  place  in  Great  Portland  Street  with  a  name 
hke  Brentano's  (which  it  isn't),  and  in  the  little  French  cafe  at 
the  back  of  the  Savoy,  I  had  to  go  down  every  day  early  and 
arrange  with  the  maitre  d'hotel  to  swear  the  wine  was  two  bob  a 
bottle.  '  Then  just  send  me  two  dozen  of  that,  will  you  ?  '  said 
Whistler.  And  I  had  to  settle  the  difference,  which  was  the  joke 
on  me. 

"  But  I  enjoyed  it,  as  you  know.  I  don't  think  he  hked  me 
at  first.  Some  one  had  told  him  I  was  a  Phihstine  of  Askelon.  But 
afterwards  we  got  on  like  a  pair  of  brothers — even  better — and  he 
would  permit  himself  to  be  \Arapped  up  and  looked  after  while 
with  me. 

"  He  told  me  lots  about  his  early  times  in  London  and  Paris — 
170  [1896 


■IMI-:    .MASIKl;    SMITH    or    I.VMIO    WKCIS 


TRIALS    AND    GRIEFS 

but  all  in  fragments — just  as  the  thing  occurred  to  him.  Like  an 
idiot,  I  took  no  notes.  Lots,  too,  about  Carlyle  and  his  sittings, 
as  likely  to  interest  a  Scot.  He  had  got  on  unexpectedly  well  \vith 
True  Thomas,  chiefly  by  letting  him  do  the  talking,  and  never 
opening  his  mouth,  except  when  Carlyle  wanted  him  to  talk. 
Carlyle  asked  him  about  Paris,  and  was  unexpectedly  interested 
in  the  cafes,  and  so  forth.  Wliistler  told  him  the  names  of  some — 
Riche,  Anglais,  Vefour,  and  Foyot  and  Lavenue  on  the  south  side. 
Carlyle  seemed  to  be  mentally  taking  notes.  Then  he  suddenly 
raised  his  head  and  demanded,  '  Can  a  man  get  a  chop  there  ?  ' 

"  Concerning  my  own  sittings,  he  was  very  particular  that  I 
should  always  be  in  good  form — '  trampling,'  as  he  said — other- 
wise, he  would  tell  me  to  go  away  and  play.  He  was  great  on 
telling  me  that  I  must  go  away  from  London.  It  would  be  death 
to  me,  he  said.  Only  musical  people  and  artists  had  any  right  to 
come  there,  and  they  only  to  make  money.  What  else  was  he 
there  for  ? 

"  Mr.  Unwin  had  arranged  for  a  simple  lithograph,  but  Wliistler 
said  he  would  make  a  picture  like  a  postage  stamp,  and  next  year 
all  the  exhibitions  would  be  busy  as  ant-hiUs  with  similar  '  postage 
stamp  '  portraits.  '  Some  folk  think  hfe-size  means  six  foot  by 
three — I'll  show  them  ! '  he  said  more  than  once.  I  wanted  to 
shell  out  as  he  went  on,  and  once,  being  flush  {new  book  or  some- 
thing), I  said  I  had  Fifty  Pounds  which  was  annoying  me,  and  I 
wished  he  would  take  it.  He  was  very  s\\eet  about  it,  and  said 
he  understood.  Money  burnt  a  hole  in  his  pocket,  too,  but  he 
could  not  take  any  money,  as  he  might  never  finish  the  work. 
Any  day  his  brush  might  drop,  and  he  could  not  do  another 
stroke. 

"  It  was  a  bad  omen  !  His  wife  grew  worse.  He  sent  me 
word  not  to  come.  She  died,  and  I  never  saw  him  after.  I  wish 
you  could  tell  me  what  became  of  that  picture.  He  called  it  The 
Grey  Man." 

This  is  another  example  of  Whistler's  endless  repetition 
of  titles.  Mr.  Cowan's  was  I'he  Grey  Man  too.  Of  Mr. 
Crockett's  portrait.  Whistler  said  to  us  that  Crockett  was 
delighted  with  it  as  far  as  it  had  gone,  and  he  was  rather 
pleased  with  it  himself. 

At  this  time,  a  little  earlier  or  a  little  later.  Whistler  painted 
1896]  171 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

several  ol  these  small  full-lengths,  which  were  to  show  the 
fallacy  of  the  life-size  theory  and  the  belief  that  the  importance 
of  a  portrait  depended  on  the  size  of  the  canvas.  Mr.  E.  G. 
Kennedy  stood  for  a  second  after  the  one  destroyed  in  Paris  ; 
Mr.  Arnold  Hannay  for  another  ;  Mr.  C.  E.  Holloway  for 
The  Philosopher,  which  Whistler  considered  particularly 
successful,  and  which  M'as  bought,  before  his  death,  by  the 
Countess  de  Beam  in  Paris. 

In  the  spring,  Wiistler  moved  his  wife  from  the  Savoy  to 
St.  Jude's  Cottage,  Hampstead  Heath.  It  was  then  he  began 
to  give  up  hope.  There  was  one  sad  day,  just  before  the  end, 
when  he  came  to  see  us,  and  for  the  first  time  admitted  the 
worst.  "  AVe  are  very,  very  bad,"  he  kept  repeating.  jMr. 
Sydney  Pawling,  on  the  morning  of  her  last  day,  met  him 
walking,  running  almost,  across  the  Heath,  looking  at 
nothing,  seeing  no  one.  IMr.  Pawling,  however,  alarmed  at 
his  appearance,  stopped  him.  "  Don't  speak  !  Don't  speak  ! 
It  is  terrible  !  "  he  said,  and  was  gone. 

Mrs.  Whistler  died  on  Maj^  10,  and  was  buried  at  Chiswick. 
We  were  both  abroad,  but  on  the  first  Sunday  after  our  return, 
a  few  days  later,  he  came  to  see  us  and  asked  E.  to  go  with 
him  to  the  National  Gallery.  There  he  showed  her  the 
pictures  his  "  Trixie  "  loved,  standing  long  before  Tintoretto's 
Milky  Way,  her  favourite.  On  this  occasion  there  was  no 
talk  about  pictures — Canaletto  was  barely  looked  at — there 
was  no  talk  about  anything,  and  the  tragedy  that  could  not 
be  forgotten  for  a  moment  by  either  was,  as  if  by  tacit  under- 
standing, never  even  referred  to.  But  M.  Paul  Renouard 
was  in  the  Gallery  and  came  to  Whistler  with  a  word  of  con- 
dolence, which  was  the  most  painful  thing  of  all  to  him. 
During  the  first  few  months  after  Mrs.  Whistler's  death,  in 
the  first  shock  of  his  sorrow  and  loss.  Whistler  made  her 
sister.  Miss  Rosalind  Birnie  Philip,  his  ward  and  drew  up 
a  new  will  appointing  her  his  heiress  and  executrix. 
172  [1896 


CHAPTER  XL.     ALONE.    THE  YEAR 
EIGHTEEN  NINETY-SIX 

WHISTLER  stayed  for  a  short  time  in  Hampstead 
with  his  sisters-in-law.  He  then  Avent  to  hve  with 
Mr.  Heineniann  at  Whitehall  Court,  where  he  remained, 
on  and  off,  for  two  or  three  years,  spending  only  the  periods 
of  Mr.  Heinemann's  absence  at  Garlant's  Hotel.  He  was 
with  us  day  after  day  throughout  the  summer.  Little  notes 
were  despatched  from  the  studio  to  ask  if  we  would  be  in 
and  alone  in  the  evening  and,  if  so,  he  would  dine  with  us. 
At  first,  he  would  not  join  us  if  we  expected  anybody  else. 
He  liked  to  sit  quietly  and  talk  to  us,  he  said,  but  he  could 
not  risk  meeting  other  people.  He  was  seeing  few,  outside 
the  studio,  except  Mr.  Heinemann,  Mr.  E.  G.  Kennedy,  and 
ourselves.  We  all  went  occasionally  to  the  studio,  and  often 
he  and  J.  sketched  together  in  the  London  streets. 

For  these  sketching  expeditions.  Whistler  prepared  before- 
hand the  colours  he  wanted  to  use,  and  if  the  day  turned  out 
too  grey  or  too  radiant  for  his  scheme,  nothing  was  done. 
The  chosen  colours  were  mixed  and  little  tubes,  filled  with 
them,  were  carried  in  his  small  paint-box,  which  held  also 
the  tiny  palette  with  the  pure  colours  he  employed  arranged 
on  it,  his  brushes,  and  two  or  three  small  panels.  Many 
studies  Avere  started.  The  most  important  was  one  of  St. 
John's,  Westminster.  He  loved  the  little  quiet  old  corner, 
now  almost  entirely  destroyed,  and  he  went  there  several 
times.  He  worked  away  with  his  top  hat  jammed  down  on 
his  nose,  sitting  on  the  usual  three-legged  sketching-stool, 
1896]  173 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

the  box  on  his  knee,  the  panel  in  it,  beginning  at  once  with 
colour  on  the  panel,  usually  finishing  the  work  in  one  after- 
noon, though  he  took  two  over  this  church.  The  painting 
was  simply  done,  commencing  with  the  point  of  interest, 
the  masses  put  in  bigly,  the  details  worked  into  them.  Just 
as  in  the  studio,  five  minutes  after  he  had  begun,  he  became 
so  absorbed  in  his  picture  that  he  forgot  everjirhing  else, 
until  it  grew  too  dark  to  see.  Save  for  the  preparation  of  the 
colours,  there  was  really  no  dilference  in  his  way  of  sketching 
out  of  doors  from  that  of  any  other  painter. 

He  made  one  or  two  little  journeys  during  the  summer,  one 
to  Rochester  and  Canterbury  with  Mrs.  Wliibley  and  Miss 
Birnie  Philip.  But,  disgusted  with  the  inns  and  the  food, 
he  hurried  back  after  a  day  or  so.  Another  longer  and  more 
successful  trip  was  with  Mr.  E.  G.  Kennedy,  who  writes  us : 

"  It  was  agreed  that  ^\^listle^  and  myself  should  go  to  France 
for  a  short  time.  Neither  of  us  had  any  idea  of  where  we  were 
going  except  to  Havre.  \Alien  we  arrived  in  the  early  morning, 
several  Americans,  who  had  come  to  Southampton  bj'  the 
American  Line,  were  on  board.  Two  cheap- jacks,  with  their  hats 
on  three  hairs,  were  looking  over  the  side  at  the  curious  colour  of 
the  water.  One  of  them  said  to  the  other,  '  There  must  have  been 
a  hell  of  a  wash  here  yesterday,  Bill ! '  The  water  did  look  hke 
suds,  and  AVhistler  enjoyed  the  characteristic  exclamation  im- 
mensely. After  he  got  shaved  at  Havre  and  had  coSee,  we  took 
the  boat  to  Honflexu,  which,  as  you  know,  has  a  tidal  service  there. 
'  Do  you  know  where  we  are  going  ?  '  I  said  to  him. — '  No,  I 
don't,'  said  he. — '  Well,'  said  I,  '  there  is  a  white-whiskered, 
respectable-looking  old  gentleman  ;  perhaps  he  knows  the  lay 
of  the  groimd.  You  speak  French  like  a  native ;  tip  him  a 
stave.' 

"  So  Whistler  asked  him  about  hotels  in  Honfleur.  There  were 
two,  it  seemed,  the  Cheval  Blanc  on  the  quay,  and  the  Ferme  de 
St.  Simeon  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town.  The  Cheval  was  so  dirty 
that  I  got  the  only  cab,  and,  piling  tlie  luggage  on  it  -with  ourselves, 
drove  ofi  to  the  farm.  Fortunately,  there  were  two  vacant  rooms, 
and  we  stayed  there  for  a  week.  The  cooking  was  excellent, 
174  [1896 


ALONE 

and,  of  course,  Madame  knew  \\ho  Monsieur  Vistlaire  was. 
AVlaistler  used  to  kick  up  a  row  every  night  with  me  about  the 
'  ridiculous  British,'  to  divert  his  mind,  I  imagine,  and  sometimes 
my  retorts  were  so  sharp  that  I  said  to  myself,  '  All  is  over  between 
us  now.'  But  he  used  to  bob  up  serenely  in  the  morning,  as  if 
nothing  had  happened,  and,  after  dejeuner,  he  would  take  liis  small 
box  of  colours,  &c.,  and  paint  in  the  Cathedral  or  large  church, 
wliichever  it  is.  I  used  to  stroU  about  the  town  and  look  in  occa- 
sionally to  see  that  Wiistler  came  to  no  harm.  It  was  here  that 
he  said  he  was  going  over  to  Rome  some  day,  and  Mhen  I  said, 
'  Don't  forget  to  let  me  know,  so  that  I  may  be  on  hand  to  see 
you  wandering  up  the  aisle  in  sackcloth  and  ashes,  with  a  candle 
in  each  hand,  or  scrubbing'the  floor  !  '  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  horrified 
astonishment,  'Good  God!  O'K.,*  is  it  possible  ?  Why,  I  thought 
they  would  make  me  a  heU  of  a  swell  of  an  Abbot,  or  something 
like  that.' 

"  It  was  amusing  to  see  him  manoeuvre  to  get  near  the  big 
kitchen  fire,  purple  overcoat  on.  He  was  a  true  American, 
particularly  in  his  liking  for  heat,  and  the  way  he  would  sidle 
into  the  kitchen,  which  opened  on  out  of  doors,  all  the  time  mildly 
flattering  Madame,  was  very  characteristic.  We  went  to  Trouville 
one  day — a  dull  hole  then — on  the  diUgence,  and  had  a  capital 
dejeuner  at  the  Cafe  de  Paris,  before  which  Whistler  said,  '  We 
must  do  tliis  en  Prince,  O'K.  !  ' — '  All  right,  your  Highness,  I'm 
with  you  !  '  Afterwards,  when  on  the  beach,  he  went  to  sleep  on 
a  chair,  leaning  back  against  a  bath-house,  and  his  straw  hat 
tipped  on  his  nose.  It  was  funny,  but  sleep  after  luncheon  was 
a  necessity  to  him,  as  you  know.  Coming  back  to  London,  in  the 
harbour  of  Southampton,  after  listening  to  the  usual  unwearying 
talk  against  the  British,  I  said,  '  Oh,  be  reasonable  !  ' — '  Why 
should  I  ?  '  said  he." 

Later  on,  there  were  a  few  days  at  Calais,  in  the  Memice, 
Sterne's  Hotel,  where,  however,  he  was  too  blue  and  miserable 
to  be  kept  even  by  work. 

It  was  very  slowly  that  Whistler  recovered  his  balance, 
and  journeys  helped  him  less  than  the  quiet  hard-working 

*  whistler  never  lost  his  fancy  for  inventing  names  for  his  friends,  and  O'K. 
was  the  one  he  found  for  Mr.  Kennedy,  rarely  calling  him  by  any  other  either  in 
conversation  or  in  correspondence. 

1896]  175 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

days  in  the  studio  where,  by  degrees,  he  returned  to  the 
pictures  and  schemes  so  sadly  interrupted.  We  remember 
his  coming  to  us  with  Mr.  Kennedy  on  a  late  Sunday  after- 
noon, bringing  with  him,  up  our  long  three  flights  of  stairs. 
The  Master  Smith  to  show  it  to  us  once  again  before  it  was 
sent  off  to  America.  Mr.  Kennedy  had  captured  it,  seeing 
its  perfection,  fearful  of  one  unnecessary  touch  being  added. 
It  was  placed  on  a  chair  for  the  short  time  it  stayed  with  us, 
WTiistler,  facing  it  on  another  chair,  miserable  at  the  thought 
of  parting  with  it.  There  was  always  for  him  a  sharp  wrench 
when  he  let  a  picture  leave  the  studio. 

After  a  while  he  did  not  mind  meeting  a  few  people.  A 
man  he  liked  to  see  was  Timothy  Cole.  There  was  a  great 
scheme  that  he  should  make  a  series  of  drawings  on  wood 
and  that  Cole  should  engrave  them.  It  was  all  worked  out 
in  our  rooms  and  in  the  studio,  Avhere  Cole  brought  the 
blocks  prepared  for  him  to  draw  on.  But  that  is  the  last 
we  or  Cole  ever  heard  about  them,  though  we  saw  the  blocks 
frequently  at  Fitzroy  Street.     Mr.  Cole  says  : 

"  I  did  not  speak  to  him  more  than  once  after  I  had  given  him 
the  wood  blocks.     I  did  not  think  it  prudent  to  press  him  about 
the  matter,  fearing  he  might  get  disgusted  and  give  it  up.  .  . 
The  blocks  were  the  size  of  the  Century  page,  8i  by  5J." 

The  small  blocks  which  we  have  reproduced  were  drawn  by 
Whistler  and  his  wife,  of  course,  before  this.  Mrs.  Whistler 
etched  two  of  the  subjects.  The  third,  a  portrait,  is,  evi- 
dently, his  own  work.  And  the  other  two  were  made  by 
him  on  the  backs  of  the  blocks.  Cole  also  gave  him 
some  of  his  own  prints,  and  they  pleased  Whistler  very 
much,  though  he  rarely  cared  to  own  the  pictures  and  prints 
of  other  artists.  Once  when  an  etcher  sent  him  a  not  very 
wonderful  print,  he  tore  it  up,  saying,  "  I  do  not  collect 
etchings — I  make  them !  "  With  the  exception  of  his 
portrait  by  Boxall,  we  never  saw  a  scrap  of  anybody  else's 
176  [189& 


ALONE 

work  in  his  studio  or  his  house.  He  also  often  said,  "  I 
do  not  collect  the  works  ot  my  contemporaries  !  "  Besides 
his  art,  there  was  another  side  to  Mr.  Cole — his  endless 
practical  jokes.  He  used  to  do  extraordinary  things,  to 
Whistler's  amusement. 

Professor  John  Van  Dyke  was  in  London,  toward  the  end  of 
August  or  beginning  of  September,  and  Whistler  was  always 
willing  to  come  and  dine  when  he  was  with  us.  A  long  darn 
in  a  tablecloth  afterwards  bore  witness  to  the  animation  of 
one  of  these  dinners — Whistler's  knife  brought  down  sharply 
on  the  table  to  emphasise  an  argument.  The  subject  was 
Velasquez  and  Las  MeniMs,  which  he  had  never  seen,  which 
everybody  else  had  seen.  Velasquez  stood  just  as  in  the 
picture  when  he  painted  it,  he  maintained  ;  we  could  not 
agree  with  him.  Perspectives  and  plans  were  drawn  on  the 
unfortunate  cloth,  chairs  were  pulled  back  in  the  heat  of  the 
discussion,  the  situation  grew  critical.  Whistler  was  forced 
to  yield  step  by  step,  when,  of  a  sudden,  his  eyes  fell  on  Van 
Dyke's  feet  in  the  long,  pointed  shoes,  then  the  American 
fashion,  their  point  carried  to  a  degree  of  fineness  no  English 
bootmaker  could  rival,  "  My  God,  Van  Dyke,  where  did  you 
get  your  shoes  ?  "  W'histler  asked.  Of  course,  we  could  not 
go  on  fighting  after  that ;  defeat  was  avoided.  Though 
Whistler  had  never  been  in  Spain,  it  seemed  as  if  he  had  seen 
the  pictures  at  Madrid,  so  familiar  was  he  with  them,  and 
though,  as  in  this  case,  he  was  at  times  not  right  about 
them,  his  interest  was  endless.  We  remember  "  Bob  " 
Stevenson  telling  him,  to  his  great  delight,  how,  one  summer 
day  in  the  Long  Gallery  of  the  Prado,  where  Las  Meninas 
then  hung,  an  old  peasant  with  faded  blue-green  clothes 
came  in,  sitting  down  on  the  green  bench  in  front,  and  straight- 
way became  part  of  the  picture,  so  true  was  its  atmosphere. 

Another  evening  Claude  was  the  subject — Claude  compared 
to  Turner,  ^\^listler  could  never  see  the  master  whom 
1896]  n:M  177 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

Englishmen  adored  in  Turner.  This  ■nas  not  from  prejudice 
against  Ruskin,  for  IMr.  Albert  Greaves  told  us  that  vears 
before  the  Ruskin  trial,  at  Lindsey  Row,  ^\Tiistler  "  reviled 
Turner."  jMr.  Cole  in  1896  was  making  engravings  after 
some  of  the  Turners  in  the  National  Gallery,  and  ^^^listler 
insisted  on  "  their  inferiority  to  the  Claudes,  so  amazingly 
demonstrated  in  Trafalgar  Square,  where  Turner  had  invited 
the  comparison  disastrous  to  him."  The  argument  again 
grew  heated,  and  Whistler  adjourned  it  until  the  next  morning, 
when  he  arranged  to  meet  J.  and  Cole  in  the  National  Gallery. 
As  he  compared  the  pictures  of  the  two  artists  which  hang 
side  by  side  as  Turner  wished,  he  said, 

"  Well,  you  know,  you  have  only  to  look.  Claude  is  the  artist 
who  knows  there  is  no  painting  the  sun  itself,  and  so  he  chooses  the 
moment  after  the  sun  has  set,  or  has  hid  behind  a  cloud,  and  its 
hght  fills  the  sky,  and  that  Ught  he  suggests  as  no  other  painter 
ever  could.  But  Turner  must  paint  nothing  less  than  the  sun — 
and  he  sticks  on  a  blob  of  paint — let  us  be  thankful  that  it  isn't 
a  red  wafer  as  in  some  of  his  other  pictures — and  there  isn't  any 
illusion  whatever,  and  the  EngUshman  hfts  iip  his  head  in  ecstatic 
conceit  with  the  Enghsh  painter,  who  alone  has  dared  to  do  what 
no  artist  would  ever  be  fool  enough  to  attempt  !  And  look  at 
the  architecture  :  Claude  could  draw  a  classical  building  as  it 
is  ;  Turner  must  invent,  imagine  architecture  as  no  architect 
could  design  it.  and  no  builder  could  set  it  up." 

They  went  on  to  the  Canalettos  and  Guardis  that  ^^^listle^ 
never  wearied  of  looking  at,  more  especially  Canaletto's 
great  big  red  church  and  the  little  interior  of  the  Rotunda 
at  Vauxhall,  with  the  wonderful  little  figures,  from  which 
Hogarth  learned  so  much.  But  before  Whistler  could  finish 
pointing  out  the  similarity  between  his  own  work  and  Guardi's 
the  talk  came  to  a  sudden  end,  for  half  the  copyists  in  the 
room  had  left  their  easels.  This  annoyed  ^^^listler,  and  he 
went  no  further.  He  would  not  talk  to  an  audience  which 
he  was  not  sure  was  sympathetic.  Sure  of  sympathy,  how- 
178  [1896 


A   I'UESHEMXO     liHKEZE 


ALONE 

ever,  he  never  tired  in  his  praise  of  the  luminosity  of  Claude, 
the  certainty  of  Canaletto,  the  wonderful  tones  and  handling 
of  Guardi,  the  character  and  colour  of  Hogarth.  Another 
Italian  about  whom  he  was  always  enthusiastic  was  Michael 
Angelo  Caravaggio,  especially  his  pictures  in  the  Louvre. 
Whistler  always  maintained  that  the  exact  knowledge,  the 
science,  of  the  Old  Masters  was  the  reason  of  their  greatness. 
The  modern  painter  has  a  few  tricks,  a  few  fads,  he  said  ; 
they  give  out,  and  nothing  is  left.  Knowledge  is  inex- 
haustible. Titian  was  painting  in  as  masterly  a  manner  in 
his  last  years  as  in  his  youth.  And  speaking  of  the  cleverness 
— a  term  he  hated — of  the  modern  man,  he  said, 

"  Tliink  of  the  finish,  the  delicacy,  the  elegance,  the  repose  of 
a  little  Terborg,  Vermeer,  Metsu.  These  were  masters  who  could 
paint  interiors,  chandcUers,  and  all  the  rest — and  what  a  difference 
between  them  and  the  clever  little  interiors  now  the  fashion  !  " 

In  the  autumn.  Whistler  established  Miss  Birnie  Philip 
and  her  mother  in  the  Rue  du  Bac  and  retvirned  to  Mr. 
Heinemann's  flat  at  Whitehall  Court,  now  making  it  so 
entirely  his  home  that  before  long  he  was  laughingly  alluding 
to  "  my  guest  Heinemann."  It  is  not  likely  that  the  two 
would  ever  have  parted  had  not  the  latter  married,  but  even 
then.  Whistler  often  stayed  with  him  as  long  as  his  health 
remained  good,  curiously  dependent  on  this  friendship 
formed  late  in  life  with  a  man  many  years  his  junior.  When 
Mr.  Heinemann  was  away  he  complained  that  dull  London 
was  duller  and  blacker  than  ever.  Whistler  shrank  from 
any  expression  of  condolence  offered  him  in  his  great  grief, 
or  from  inquiries  even  that  would  revive  the  memories  of 
those  terrible  weeks,  and  at  Wliitehall  Court  he  knew  he  was 
safe  from  the  danger.  His  host  was  careful  to  warn  all  who 
came  never  to  allude  to  that  time,  or  we  would  invite  Whistler 
to  us  if  anybody  expected  at  Whitehall  Court  was  likely  to 
jar.  After  three  or  four  years  Mr.  Heinemann's  married 
1896]  179 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

life  ended  abruptly,  and  Whistler  at  once  suggested  that 
they  should  go  back  to  the  old  way  of  living.  Mr.  Heinemann 
took  another  flat  at  Whitehall  Court,  similar  to  his  first, 
with  this  in  view.  But  Whistler  was  already  doomed,  and, 
before  the  plan  could  be  realised,  he  was  dead. 

In  the  autumn  of  1896,  I\Ir.  Henry  Savage  Landor,  back 
from  Japan  and  Korea,  was  also  staying  with  Mr.  Heinemann 
— "  a  rare  fellow,  full  of  real  affection,"  \Miistler  said  of  him. 
They  sat  up  for  hours  together,  after  everybody  had  gone 
to  bed.  \\Tiistler  slept  badly,  and  Mr.  Landor  can  do  with 
less  sleep  than  most  people.  There  was  a  skull  in  the  drawing- 
room  that,  Mr.  Landor  tells  us,  ^^^listler  would  sketch  over 
and  over  again,  while  they  talked  to  three,  four,  five  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  Once  or  twice,  when  they  drew  the  curtains, 
it  was  day,  and  Whistler  dressed,  breakfasted,  and  went 
straight  to  the  studio.  He  brought  us  stories  of  Mr.  Landor, 
the  simplicity  with  which  he  would  start  for  the  end  of  the 
earth  as  if  for  a  saunter  along  Piccadilly,  "  leaving  the  costume 
of  travel  to  the  Briton  crossing  the  Channel  "  ;  or,  in  the 
light  shoes  of  everyday  wear,  "  outwalk  the  stoutest  shod 
gillie  over  the  Scotch  moors."  Then  ^^^listle^  brought  us 
I\Ir.  Landor,  with  whom  our  friendship  dates  from  the 
morning  when,  at  ^\^listler's  request,  he  sat,  Japanese  fashion 
on  the  floor  in  the  front  of  our  fire,  a  rug  wrapped  round  him 
as  kimono,  and  devoured  imaginary  rice  with  pencils  for 
chopsticks.  A\Tien  Mr.  Landor  had  his  horrible  experiences 
in  Thibet,  and  the  story  of  his  tortures  was  telegraphed  to 
Europe,  \Miistler  was  one  of  the  first  to  send  him  a  wire  in 
his  joy  that  Landor  had  escaped. 

Whistler  also  took  a  fancy,  while  in  WTiitehall  Court,  to 
Mr.  Heinemann's  brother,  Edmund,  who  was,  Whistler 
said,  "  something  in  the  City,"  whom  he  christened  the 
"  Napoleon  of  Finance  "  and  described  as  "  sitting  in  a  tangled 
network  of  telegraph  and  telephone."  He  never  had  invested 
180  [1896 


ALONE 

money  before,  and  it  was  with  pride  that  he  deposited  at 
the  bank  his  first  "  scrip,"  bought  for  him  by  Mr.  Edmund 
Heinemann,  and  collected  his  "  half-crowns  "  as  dividends. 
Evening  after  evening  he  would  stay  in  the  studio  until  he 
could  see  no  longer,  keeping  dinner  waiting  at  Whitehall 
Court,  so  that  no  time  could  ever  be  fixed  for  the  meal. 
Arriving,  he  would  first  insist  on  mixing  cocktails,  an  art  in 
which  he  excelled  and  which  must  have  dated  back  to  the 
time  when  he  "  stayed  away  "  from  the  Coast  Survey.  If 
it  did  not  suit  him  to  dine  at  Whitehall  Court,  he  would 
write  or  telegraph  to  say  he  could  dine  with  us  if  we  liked, 
or  that  he  had  amazing  things  to  tell  us,  should  he  come  ? — 
or  that  he  was  sure  we  were  both  wanting  to  see  him.  Or 
he  would  drive  straight  from  the  studio  in  the  late  afternoon 
and  stay  on,  arriving  sometimes  before  the  notes  he  had 
forgotten  to  send,  or  with  the  wires  unsent  still  in  his  pocket ; 
almost  the  only  time  we  have  known  him  willingly  not  to 
dress  for  dinner.  On  rare  occasions,  he  came  in  after  we 
had  dined,  and  still  demanded  the  fortune  du  pot  of  our 
small  establishment,  and  was  always  content,  no  matter 
how  meagre  that  fortune  might  prove,  though  if  it  included 
"  a  piece  of  American  cake  "  or  anything  sweet  he  was  the 
better  pleased.  He  grumbled  only  over  our  Sunday  evening 
supper,  which  was  cold  in  English  fashion,  out  of  deference  to 
an  old  English  servant.  Then  he  would  even  bring  Constant, 
his  valet,  model  and  cook,  to  make  him  an  onion  soup  or  an 
omelette.  Constant  was  succeeded  by  a  little  Belgian  maid 
called  Marie,  who  was  supposed  to  look  after  the  studio,  and 
who,  when  he  stayed  at  Garlant's  and  we  dined  with  him  there, 
would  be  summoned  to  dress  the  salad  and  make  the  cofTee. 
It  was  not  long  after  this  that,  by  the  doctor's  advice,  he  gave 
up  coffee  and  stopped  smoking  too.  Few  men  ever  ate  less 
than  Whistler,  but  few  were  more  fastidious  about  what 
they  did  eat.  He  made  the  best  of  our  English  cooking 
1896]  i8i 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

while  it  lasted,  but  he  Avas  glad  when  our  English  ser- 
vant was  succeeded  by  Augustine,  who  was  French  and 
who  could  make  the  soups,  salads  and  dishes  he  liked,  and 
who  did  not  hesitate  to  "  scold  "  him  when  he  was  late  and 
ruined  the  dinner. 

These  meetings  must  have  been  pleasant  to  ^Miistler  as 
to  us ;  there  were  whole  weeks  when  he  came  every  even- 
ing. On  his  arrival  he  might  be  silent.  As  the  minutes 
went  on,  however,  and  after  he  had  had  the  inevitable 
nap,  he  would  start  talking  and  his  talk  was  as  good  on 
the  last  evening  he  ever  spent  with  us  as  on  the  first. 
We  shall  always  regret  that  we  made  no  notes  of  what 
he  said,  though  the  charm  of  his  talk  must  have  eluded 
even  the  shorthand  reporter.  In  "  surroundings  of  antagon- 
ism," he  wrapped  this  talk  as  well  as  himself  in  "  a  species 
of  misunderstanding  "  and  deliberately  mystified,  bewildered, 
and  aggravated  the  company.  But  when  the  disguise  was 
no  longer  necessary,  and  he  talked  at  his  ease,  he  impressed 
us  with  his  sanity  of  judgment,  breadth  of  interest,  and 
keenness  of  intellect.  His  reading  was  extensive,  though  we 
never  ceased  to  wonder  v.here  he  found  time  for  it.  His  talk 
sometimes  abounded  in  quotations,  more  especially  from  the 
Bible,  that  "  splendid  mine  of  invective,"  as  he  once  described 
it.  His  diversity  of  knowledge  was  as  unexpected  as  his 
extensive  reading  and  we  felt  that  he  must  know  things  in- 
tuitively, just  as  by  some  uncanny  faculty  he  was  sure  to 
hear  everjrthing  said  about  him.  While  he  liked  to  hold  the 
floor,  and  was  at  his  best  when  he  did,  he  was  ready  for 
argument.  "  I  am  not  arguing,  I  am  telling  you,"  he  would 
say,  and  he  would  lose  his  temper,  which  was  violent,  but  he 
was  friendlier  than  ever  when  it  was  all  over.  And  so,  the 
shadow  of  sorrow  ever  in  the  background,  the  evenings  went 
by  that  winter  in  the  little  dining-room  which  had  been 
Etty's  studio,  where  his  huge  Edinburgh  pictures  were  painted. 
182  [1896 


ALONE 

The  Eden  affair  was  still  dragging  on,  and  Whistler's  dis- 
appointment was  great  to  find  artists  as  afraid  to  support  him 
now  as  at  the  Riiskin  trial.  One  day  in  Bond  Street,  he  met 
a  Follower,  just  returned  to  town,  arm-in-arm  with  the 
"  Baronet."  The  Follower  at  once  left  a  card  at  Fitzroy  Street. 
Whistler  wrote  "Judas  Iscariot "  on  the  card,  and  sent  it 
back.  A  few  weeks  later,  the  New  English  Art  Club  hung  Sir 
William  Eden's  work,  and  with  it,  he  said,  their  shame,  upon 
their  walls.  He  complimented  them,  much  to  their  discomfort, 
on  their  appetite  for  "  toad."  To  clear  the  air,  which  had 
become  sultry  in  the  art  clubs  and  studios,  we  invited  Pro- 
fessor Fred  Brown  and  Mr.  D.  S.  SlacColl  to  meet  him  one 
evening  at  dinner,  and  discuss  things.  Professor  Brown 
had  another  engagement.  IMr.  MacColl  came,  and  Whistler, 
who  did  not  mind  how  hard  a  man  fought,  if  he  fought 
at  all,  continued  on  pleasant  terms  with  him  always.  But 
the  New  English  Art  Club  he  never  forgave. 

A  show  of  J.'s  lithographs  of  Granada  and  the  Alhambra 
was  arranged  at  the  Fine  Art  Society's  during  December  1896, 
and,  for  the  catalogue.  Whistler  wrote  an  introductory  note 
of  appreciation.  He  designed  the  cover  to  Mr.  Charles 
Whibley's  Book  of  Scoundrels,  and  also  two  covers  for  novels 
by  Miss  Elizabeth  Robins,  all  three  books  published  by  Mr. 
Heinemann.  The  design  for  the  Book  of  Scoundrels  was  a 
gallows,  drawn  in  thin  lines,  with  rope  and  noose  attached. 
W.  E.  Henley,  to  whom  it  was  shown,  asked  whether  the 
gallows  should  not  have  been  drawn  with  a  support.  Whistler's 
comment  was  : 

"  Well,  you  know,  that's" the  usual  sort  of  gallows,  but  tins  one 
will  do.  It  will  hang  all  of  us.  Just  like  Henley's  selfishness  to 
want  a  strong  one  !  " —  ^^ 

an  allusion  to  Henley's  gigantic  frame. 

During  the  winter  Whistler  met  Sir  Seymour  Haden  for 
1896]  183 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

the  last  time  at  a  dinner  given  by  the  Society  of  lUustrators 
(of  which  both  were  Vice-Presidents)  to  Mr.  Alfred  Parsons, 
on  his  election  to  the  Royal  Academy.  It  was  \ATiistler's 
first  appearance  in  public  since  his  wife's  death,  and  as  we 
had  persuaded  him  to  go,  never  anticipating  any  such  meeting, 
we  were  annoyed  to  think  that  we  had  exposed  him  to  the 
unpleasantness  of  it.  However,  as  soon  as  Whistler  saw 
Sir  Seymour  Haden,  he  seemed  to  wake  up  and  to  begin  to 
enjoy  himself.  His  laugh  carried  far.  Haden  must  have 
heard  it  and  may  have  seen  his  ostentatious  display  of  three 
monocles  on  the  dinner  table.  Certainly,  the  fish  had  not 
been  served  when  Haden  whispered  something  to  Sir  James 
D.  Linton,  President  of  the  Society,  and  left  the  room.  Later 
Whistler  was  called  upon  to  make  a  speech  and  could  not 
get  out  of  it.  But  it  seemed  an  anti-climax.  The  real  event 
of  the  dinner  for  him  had  come  earlier  in  the  evening. 

At  Christmas,  he  went  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  T.  Fisher  Unwin 
and  ourselves  to  Bournemouth,  where  our  hotel  was  an  old- 
fashioned  inn,  selected  from  the  guide-book  because  it  was  the 
nearest  to  the  sea.  We  breakfasted  in  our  rooms,  we  met  at 
lunch  to  order  dinner,  and  the  rest  of  the  day  WTiistler  in- 
sisted must  be  spent  in  getting  an  appetite  for  it — wandering 
on  the  cliffs,  he  with  his  little  paint-box.  But  the  sea  Avas  on 
the  wrong  side,  the  wind  in  the  wrong  direction,  and  he  could 
do  nothing.  On  some  days  we  took  long  drives.  One  damp, 
cold,  cheerless  afternoon  Ave  stopped  at  a  small  inn  in  Poole. 
The  landlord,  watching  Whistler  sip  his  hot  whisky-and-water, 
was  convinced  he  was  "  somebody,"  but  was  unable  "to  place  " 
him.  "  And  who  do  you  suppose  I  am  ?  "  \^Tiistler  asked  at 
last.  "  I  can't  exactly  say,  sir,  but  I  should  fancj'  you  was 
from  the  'Alls  !  "  Aubrey  Beardsley  was  then  at  Boscombe,  a 
further  stage  reached  in  his  brave  fight  with  death,  and  we 
went  to  see  him.     But  even  the  sight  of  the  suffering  of 

others  Avas  too  cruel  a  reminder  to  A^liistler,  and  it  Avas 
184  [1896 


<   i. 

9  * 


-^  -a 
<   s 


ALONE 

characteristic  of  him  at  this  moment  that  he  shrank  from 
going  with  us. 

Dinner  was  the  event  of  the  day,  and  it  would  have  proved 
generally  a  disaster  had  he  not  seen  humour  in  his  being 
expected  to  eat  it,  so  little  was  it  what  Whistler  thought  a 
dinner  should  be.  On  Christmas  Day  he  was  melancholy 
and  stared  in  silence  at  the  turkey  and  bread  sauce,  the 
boiled  potatoes  and  soaked  greens : 

"  To  think  of  my  beautiful  room  in  tlie  Rue  du  Bac — and  the 
rest  of  them  there,  eating  their  Christmas  dinner,  having  up  the 
wonderful  old  Pouilly  from  my  cellar  !  " 

But  we  had  something  else  to  talk  about.  In  the  Saturday 
Review  of  that  week,  December  26,  there  was  an  article, 
signed  Walter  Sickert,  that  for  many  reasons  was  of  interest 
to  us  all. 


18<)6]  185 


CHAPTER  XLI.  THE  LITHOGRAPHY 
CASE.  THE  YEARS  EIGHTEEN  NINETY- 
SIX  TO  EIGHTEEN  NINETY-SEVEN 

MR.  SICKERT'S  article  was  ostensibly  inspired  by  the 
show  of  J."s  lithographs  of  Granada  at  the  Fine  Art 
Society's.  Whistler's  great  interest  in  it  is  explained  by  the 
fact  that  he  understood  it  to  be  an  attack  upon  himself,  as 
well  as  upon  J.,  whose  lithographic  drawings  alone  it  pretended 
to  deal  with.  \Miistler"s  method  of  work  has  already  been 
described.  As  a  rule,  his  lithographs  were  made  on  litho- 
graphic paper  and  transferred  by  Mr.  Way  to  the  stone.  The 
article  argued  that  to  pass  off  drawings  made  on  paper  as 
lithographs  was  as  misleading  to  "  the  purchaser  on  the  vital 
point  of  commercial  value,"  as  to  sell  photogravures  for 
etchings,  which,  when  Sir  Hubert  Herkomer  had  done  so, 
led  to  a  protest  from  J.,  and  also  from  Mr.  Sickert  whose 
condemnation  then  had  been  strong.  The  article,  therefore, 
was  written  either  ignorantly  or  maliciously,  for  no  such  dis- 
tinction in  lithography  has  ever  been  made.  Transfer  paper 
is  as  old  as  Senefelder,  the  inventor  of  lithography,  who 
looked  upon  it  as  the  most  important  part  of  his  invention. 
The  comment  amounted  to  a  charge  of  dishonesty,  and  an 
apology  was  demanded.  The  apology  was  refused  by  Mr. 
Frank  Harris,  editor  of  the  Saturday  Review,  and  consequently 
Messrs.  Lewis  and  Lewis^brought  an  action  for  libel  against 
writer  and  editor. 

The  action  stood  in  J.'s  name,  of  course,  and  Whistler 
was  the  'principal  witness.  In  the  hope  that  the  matter 
i86  "        '  [1S.Q6 


THE    LITHOGRAPHY    CASE 

might  be  settled  by  a  suitable  apology  and  without  appeal  to 
the  law,  Mr.  Heinemann  arranged  a  meeting  between  the  editor 
of  the  Saturday  Review  and  Whistler.  But  nothing  came  of 
it.  People  who  knew  nothing  of  lithography  got  involved  in 
the  case,  and  our  old  friend  Harold  Frederic,  for  one,  enrolled 
himself  inexplicably  with  the  enemy.  Others  were  found  to 
know  a  great  deal  whom  we  should  never  have  suspected  of 
the  knowledge,  and  through  Wliistler  we  discovered  that  jMr. 
Alfred  Gilbert  started  life  as  a  lithographer,  was  indignant 
with  the  Saturday  Review,  and  was  only  too  A^illing  to  offer 
his  services  to  us.  Meetings  followed  on  Sunday  evenings  in 
the  huge  I\Iaida  Vale  house,  where  Mr.  Gilbert  was  trying  to 
revive  medircval  relations  between  master  and  workman,  and 
live  the  life  of  a  craftsman  with  pupils  and  assistants  :  a 
brave  experiment,  if  it  ended  in  failure. 

The  case  was  fixed  for  April  1S97,  the  most  inconvenient 
time  of  the  year  for  the  artist  who  exhibits.  Whistler  was 
working  on  the  portrait  of  Miss  Kinsella,  and  he  had  promised 
three  pictures  to  the  Salon  :  Green  and  Violet,  Rose  and  Gold, 
and  a  Nocturne.  M.  Helleu,  who  was  over  in  London,  had 
them  catalogued  and  measured,  reserving  the  necessary  space 
on  the  walls.  Only  a  few  days  before  sending  in  were  left 
and  the  work  could  never  be  done  in  time.  Whistler  was  in 
despair.  It  was  then,  too,  he  learned  that  C.  E.  Holloway, 
the  model  for  The  Philosopher,  a  distinguished  artist  whom 
the  world  never  knew,  was  ill  in  his  studio  near  by.  Holloway 
was  anything  but  a  successful  man  and  Whistler  was  shocked 
to  find  him  in  bed,  lacking  nearly  eveiy  comfort.  He 
provided  doctors,  nurses,  medicine,  and  even  food,  and 
looked  after  the  dying  man's  family.  He  spent  afternoons 
in  Holloway's  little  bedroom.  All  this  took  up  much  time 
and  made  it  more  difTicult  than  ever  to  get  his  pictures 
ready  for  the  Salon. 

He  called  one  morning  on  his  way  to  the  studio  to  tell  us 
1897]  187 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

of  the  death  of  Holloway.  He  was  going  to  the  funeral  and 
was  already  suggesting  a  scheme  for  a  fund  to  purchase  some 
of  the  pictures  and  give  the  proceeds  to  the  family.  He  was 
nervous  and  worried,  with  the  Salon  clamouring  for  his  work 
on  the  one  hand,  and  the  trial  claiming  him  on  the  other. 
People,  he  complained,  did  not  seem  to  understand  the  im- 
portance of  his  time.  Things  were  amazing  in  the  studio 
and  he  was  expected  to  leave  them  to  go  into  court.  No,  he 
wouldn't,  that  was  the  end  of  it.  His  pictures  must  be 
finished.     J.  said  to  him  : 

"  The  case  is  as  much  yours  as  mine,  and  you  must  come. 
Your  reputation  is  involved.  There  will  be  an  end  to  your 
lithography  if  we  lose.     You  must  fight." 

^Miistler,  if  in  the  wrong,  liked  a  friend  the  better  for  the 
contradiction  he  was  popularly  supposed  unable  to  bear, 
and  his  answer  was, 

"  Well,  you  know,  but  really — why,  of  course,  Joseph,  it's  all 
right.  I'm  coming,  of  course,  we'll  fight  it  through  together. 
I  never  meant  not  to.     That's  all  right." 

And  to  E.,  who  went  with  him  to  the  "  Temple  of  Pomona  " 
in  the  Strand,  to  order  flowers  for  Holloway,  he  kept  saying, 

"  You  know,  really,  Joseph  mustn't  talk  like  that !  Of  course 
it's  all  right.  Of  course,  I  never  meant  not  to  come.  You  must 
tell  him  it's  all  right.     I  never  back  out  !  " 

But  his  work  was  stopped.  The  pictures  did  not  go  to  Paris. 
The  case  was  tried  in  the  King's  Bench  Division,  on  April 
5,  before  Mr.  Justice  Mathew.  We  were  represented  bj'  Sir 
Edward  Clarke  and  Mr.  Eldon  Bankes.  W'histler  arrived 
early.  In  the  great  hall,  he  met  the  counsel  for  the  other 
side,  Mr.  Bigham,  an  acquaintance,  and  leaning  on  his  arm, 
entered  the  Court — "  capturing  the  enemy's  counsel  on  the 
way,"  he  said  as  he  sat  down  between  us  and  Sir  George 
Lewis. 
i88  [1897 


THE  PHILOSOPHER 

(liosc  ami  Jirown) 


THE    LITHOGRAPHY    CASE 

J.,  in  the  witness-box,  simply  pointed  out  that  he  had  made 
Hthographs  both  on  paper  and  on  stone  ;  that  there  was  no 
difference  between  them  ;  that  this  was  an  historical  fact 
which  he  was  able  to  prove  ;  that  for  the  defendants  to  deny 
that  a  lithograph  made  on  paper  was  as  much  a  lithograph  as 
a  lithograph  made  on  stone,  showed  that  they  knew  nothing 
about  the  subject,  or  else  were  acting  out  of  malice. 

Whistler  was  called  immediately  after.  He  said  his  griev- 
ance was  the  accusation  that  he  pursued  the  same  evil  practice. 
He  was  asked  by  Mr.  Bigham  if  he  was  very  angry  with  Mr. 
Sickert,  and  he  replied  he  might  not  be  angry  with  Mr.  Sickert, 
but  he  was  disgusted  that 

"  distinguished  people  like  Mr.  Pennell  and  myself  are  attacked 
by  an  absolutely  unknown  authority  (Mr.  Sickert),  an  insignificant 
and  irresponsible  person." 

Then,  said  Mr.  Bigham,  Mr.  Sickert  is  an  insignificant  and 
irresponsible  person  who  can  do  no  harm  ?  Whistler  answered, 

"  Even  a  fool  can  do  harm,  and  if  any  harm  is  done  to  Mr. 
PenneU,  it  is  done  to  me.     This  is  a  question  for  aU  artists." 

And  he  added  that  Mr.  Sickert's  pretended  compliments  and 
flatteries  were  a  most  impertinent  piece  of  insolence,  tainted 
with  a  certain  obsequious  approach. 

Further  asked  if  this  was  his  action,  he  said, 

"  I  am  afraid  if  Mr.  Pennell  had  not  taken  these  proceedings, 
I  should." 

"  You  are  working  together,  then  ?  " 
"  No,  we  are  on  the  same  side." 
"  Are  you  bearing  any  part  of  the  costs  ?  " 
"  No,  but  I  am  quite  willing." 

Sir  Edward  Clarke  then  interposed  and  asked  if  there  was 
any  foundation  for  that  question. 

"  Only  the  lightness  and  delicacy  of  the  counsel's  suggestion." 
1897]  189 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

At  the  end  of  the  cross-examination,  'WTiistler  adjusted  his 
eye-glass,  put  his  hat  on  the  rail  of  the  witness-box,  slowly 
pulled  off  one  of  his  gloves  after  the  other.  He  turned  to  the 
judge  and  said, 

"  And  now,  my  lord,  may  I  tell  j'ou  why  we  are  all  here  ?  " 
"  No,  Mr.  Whistler,  we  are  all  here  because  we  cannot  help 
it!" 

And-  ^^^listle^  left  the  box.  ^^^lat  he  meant  to  say  no  one 
will  ever  know.  We  asked  him  later.  He  shook  his  head  ; 
the  moment  for  saying  it  had  passed. 

Mr.  Sidney  Colvin,  as  Keeper  of  the  Print  Room  of  the 
British  Museum,  testified  that  no  difference  was  made  in 
classifying  lithographs  done  on  paper  and  Uthographs  done 
on  stone  ;  Mr.  Strange,  of  the  Art  Library,  South  Kensington, 
corroborated  this  ;  Mr.  Way  and  Mr.  Goulding,  professional 
lithographic  printers,  gave  evidence  to  the  same  effect.  And 
]Mr.  Alfred  Gilbert  kept  his  promise  of  appearing  in  our  support. 

I\Ir.  Bigham,  in  defence,  said  that  the  issues  in  the  case  were 
not  of  any  serious  consequence  to  the  pocket  or  the  reputation 
of  anybody,  and  that  the  defendant  had  written  in  faith  and 
honesty,  with  the  simple  desire  to  express  his  honest  opinion 
on  the  work  he  had  criticised,  and  that  he  did  not  impute  any 
dishonest  or  improper  motive.  This  was  a  storm  in  a  teacup 
blown  up  by  ]Mr.  Whistler. 

Mr.  Macaskie,  for  the  proprietor  of  the  Saturday  Review, 
said  that  he  did  not  even  know  why  he  had  been  drawn  into 
this  artistic  squabble. 

]Mr.  Sickert  began  by  protesting  that  he  was  familiar  with 
all  the  processes  of  lithograph}' ;  that  the  plaintiff's  litho- 
graphs were  not  lithographs  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  mere 
transfers.  He  had  submitted  the  article  to  another  paper, 
which  refused  it  before  it  was  accepted  by  the  Saturday 
Review.  He  had  been  under  the  impression  that  the  plaintiff 
190  [1897 


THE    LITHOGRAPHY    CASE 

would  like  a  newspaper  correspondence.  He  was  actuated 
by  a  pedantic  purism.  Cross-examined  by  Sir  Edward 
Clarke,  he  had  to  admit,  by  implication,  that  he  intended  to 
charge  the  plaintiff  with  dishonest  practices,  and  that  he  had 
caught  Mr.  Pennell,  the  purist,  tripping.  He  had  to  admit 
also  that  the  only  lithograph  he  ever  published  was  made  in 
the  same  way,  and  he  had  called  it,  or  allowed  it  to  be  called, 
a  lithograph. 

Mr.  Sickert's  witnesses  scarcely  helped  him.  Mr.  C.  H. 
Shannon's  testimony  was  more  favourable  to  us  than  to  him. 
Mr.  Rothenstein  testified  that  all  the  lithographs  he  had 
published  were  done  exactly  as  \\liistler  and  J.  had  done 
theirs.  JMr.  George  Moore  solemnly  proclaimed  that  he  knew 
nothing  about  lithographs,  but  that  he  knew  Degas.  "  WTiat's 
Degas  ?  "  said  the  judge,  thinking  some  new  process  had  been 
sprung  on  him,  and  Mr.  Moore  vanished.  The  proprietor 
of  the  Saturday  Review  acknowledged  that  he  had  published, 
as  recently  as  Christmas,  an  illustrated  supplement  full  of 
lithographs  done  on  transfer  paper  and  advertised  by  him  as 
lithographs  ;  also  that  he  had  not  known  what  was  in  Mr. 
Sickert's  article  until  it  appeared. 

Mr.  Bankes,  in  summing  up  for  us,  said  that  without  doubt 
the  plaintiff  was  charged  with  dishonesty  ;  that  the  attack 
was  equally  injurious  and  bitter  both  on  the  plaintiff  and  Mr. 
Whistler  ;  that  the  plaintiff  had  been  used  as  a  stalking-horse 
for  jMr.  Whistler. 

The  judge  said  that  a  critic  might  express  a  most  disparaging 
opinion  on  an  artist's  work  and  might  refer  to  him  in  the  most 
disagreeable  terms,  but  he  must  not  attribute  to  the  artist 
most  discreditable  conduct,  unless  he  could  prove  that  his 
charge  was  true.  If  the  jury  thought  the  criticism  merely 
sharp  and  exaggerated,  they  would  find  a  verdict  for  the 
defendant,  but  if  not — that  is,  if  it  was  more  than  this — they 
should  consider  to  what  damages  the  plaintiff  was  entitled. 
1897]  191 


JAMES    3IcNEILL    WHISTLER 

The  verdict  was  for  the  plaintiff — damages,  fifty  pounds  : 
not  a  high  estimate  of  the  value  of  artistic  morality  on  the 
part  of  the  British  jury,  but,  at  least,  in  so  far  as  it  carried 
costs,  higher  than  the  estimate  put  upon  it  in  the  Ruskin  trial. 
So  convinced,  however,  were  the  other  side  of  a  verdict  in 
their  favour,  that  a  rumour  reached  us  of  a  luncheon  ordered 
beforehand,  on  the  morning  of  the  second  day,  by  the  editor 
of  the  Saturday  Review  to  celebrate  our  defeat.  We  waited 
to  be  sure.  Then  we  carried  off  ^\^listler,  Mr.  Reginald  Poole, 
who  had  conducted  the  case  for  us,  and  Mr.  Jonathan  Sturgis 
to  the  Cafe  Royal  for  our  breakfast.  WTiistler  was  jubilant, 
and  nothing  pleased  him  more  than  the  deference  of  the 
foreman  of  the  jury  who  waylaid  him  to  shake  hands  at  the 
close  of  the  trial. 


193  [1897 


CHAPTER  XLII.  THE  END  OF  THE  EDEN 
CASE.  THE  YEAR  EIGHTEEN  NINETY- 
SEVEN 

AFTER  our  trial,  Whistler  went  to  Paris  and  Boldini 
painted  his  portrait,  shown  in  1900.  It  was  done  in  a 
very  few  sittings.  Mr.  E.  G.  Kennedy,  who  went  with 
Whistler  several  times,  says  that  Boldini's  method  was  as- 
tonishingly sure  and  rapid,  that  ^Vhistler  frequently  got  tired 
of  doing  what  he  had  made  other  people  do  all  his  life — pose 
— and  that  he  used  to  take  little  naps.  During  one  of  these, 
Boldini  made  a  dry-point  of  him  on  a  zinc  plate.  Whistler 
did  not  like  it,  nor  did  he  like  any  better  Helleu's  dry-point 
half-length  of  him  in  the  Boldini  pose.  Of  the  painting. 
Whistler  said  to  us,  "  They  say  that  looks  like  me,  but  I  hope 
I  don't  look  like  that  !  "  It  is,  however,  a  wonderful  pre- 
sentment of  him  in  his  very  worst  mood,  and  Mr.  Kennedy 
remembers  that  he  was  in  his  worst  mood  all  the  while  he 
posed.  It  is  the  Whistler  whom  the  world  knew  and  feared. 
When  Whistler  got  back  to  London,  in  May  or  June,  he 
went  to  Garlant's  Hotel,  where  Mr.  Kennedy  was  staying. 
Mr.  Kennedy's  relations  with  Whistler  commenced  with  the 
selling  of  Wliistler's  prints  and  pictures  in  New  York,  and 
soon  developed  into  a  close  and  intimate  friendship,  which 
continued  until  almost  the  end  of  Whistler's  life.  Kennedy 
was  one  of  Whistler's  first  and  foremost  champions  in  America, 
devoted  and  loyal,  though  the  friendship  ended  rather 
abruptly  through  a  regrettable  misunderstanding  on  Whistler's 
part.  After  Whistler's  death,  Mr.  Kennedy  was  mainly 
1897]  II  :n  193 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

responsible  for  the  fine  exhibitions  at  the  Grolier  Club  and 
the  catalogue. 

Every  now  and  then  this  summer,  \Miistler  went  on  short 
visits  to  Hampton  where  Mr.  Heinemann  was  living  in  a 
"  cottage."  Whistler  never  liked  the  country,  but,  he  said, 

"  I  suppose  now  we'll  have  to  fish  for  the  httle  gudgeon  together 
in  a  chair,  with  painted  corks,  like  the  other  Britons." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  took  part  in  all  the  fun  there.  He 
went  to  regattas,  picnicked,  and  allowed  himself  to  be  rowed 
and  punted  about.  At  Hampton  he  first  met  'Mr.  William 
Nicholson,  whom  Mr.  Heinemann  had  asked  down  with  a 
view  to  his  adding  a  portrait  of  \\Tiistler  to  the  series  that 
began  with  his  enormously  successful  woodcut  of  Queen 
Victoria.  3Ir.  Nicholson,  later  on,  in  the  Fitzroy  Street 
studio,  made  his  studies  of  WTiistler  in  evening  dress,  the 
pose  and  the  place  of  the  figure  in  the  design  recalUng 
somewhat  Whistler's  own  arrangement  in  the  Sarasate. 

It  was  the  summer  of  the  Queen's  Diamond  Jubilee. 
AMiistler  could  not  come  to  us  from  his  hotel  that  June  ^\■ithout 
passing  through  streets  hung  yriXh  tawdry  wreaths  and 
festoons,  and  Trafalgar  Square  buried  in  a  mass  of  platforms, 
seats,  and  builders'  advertisements,  with  Nelson  on  his 
column  just  peering  above  the  scaffolding.  The  decorations 
were  an  unfaihng  source  of  amusement  to  him,  an  excuse  for 
a  new  estimate  of  "  the  Island  and  the  Islander,"  and  the 
talk  about  the  British  which  became  habitual  during  his  last 
years  and  was  an  annoyance,  we  are  afraid,  to  some  of  his 
friends  and  more  of  his  "  enemies."  One  evening  he  sketched 
for  us  his  impression  of  the  Square,  with  Nelson  "  boarded  at 
last."  "  You  see,"  he  said,  "  England  expects  every  English- 
man to  be  ridiculous,"  and  the  sketch  afterwards  appeared 
in  the  Daily  Chronicle  much  to  his  satisfaction,  but  Uttle  to 
the  public's. 
194  \.^^9~ 


THE  END  OF  THE  EDEN  CASE 

In  July  he  took  a  short  journey  with  us.  We  were 
starting  to  bicycle  across  France  to  Switzerland,  and  the 
evening  before  he,  Mr.  Kennedy,  and  M.  Boldini  dined  with 
us.  It  happened  that  Boldini  was  to  cross  the  Channel  by 
the  same  boat,  and  Whistler,  who  always  loved  the  trip  to 
Dieppe,  and  hated  to  be  left  alone,  decided  that  he  and 
Kennedy  must  go  too.  A  good  deal  has  been  written  and 
said  of  the  discomfort  of  having  Whistler  as  a  fellow  traveller. 
Our  experience  was  very  different.  He  attracted  attention,  it 
is  true,  but  this  he  did  wherever  he  went.  He  had  long  since 
given  up  the  old  extravagances  of  dress.  But  there  was 
something  in  the  length  and  cut  of  his  overcoat,  in  the  tilt  of 
his  flat-brimmed  silk  hat,  or  jaunty  straw,  over  his  eyes,  that 
was  peculiar  to  himself  and  that  forced  people  to  look  at  him. 
And  his  way  of  leaning  on  the  arm  of  anybody  who  happened 
to  be  with  him  to  walk  the  shortest  distance,  made  him  no 
less  conspicuous.  On  this  occasion,  he  arrived  at  the  station 
so  late  that  the  rest  of  the  party  were  reduced  to  a  state  of 
nervous  anxiety.  But  once  we  had  started,  he  was  the  best 
company  in  the  world,  he  himself  enjoying  every  minute  of 
the  journey,  especially  on  the  boat,  where  he  ran  across  a 
group  of  "  enemies  "  greatly  to  their  embarrassment.  He  had 
hardly  arrived  at  Dieppe  before  the  small  paint-box  was 
unpacked,  and  he  was  in  the  street  hunting  for  a  little  shop- 
front  he  remembered.  It  was  characteristic  that  first  he  had 
to  find  another  kind  of  shop  where  he  could  buy  a  rosette  of 
the  Legion  of  Honour,  for  his  had  been  lost  or  forgotten,  and 
he  would  have  thought  it  wanting  in  respect  to  appear  without 
one  in  France.  The  only  shadow  to  the  pleasure  of  the  after- 
noon was  when  the  shopkeeper,  to  whom  he  had  explained  his 
loss,  said,  "  All  right.  Monsieur,  here  is  the  rosette,  but  I  have 
heard  that  story  before."  However,  after  the  first  irritation, 
even  Whistler  had  to  laugh.  One  other  incident  was  character- 
istic. We  had  only  our  cycling  costumes,  we  were  staying  at 
1897]  195 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

the  Hotel  Royal,  and  Whistler  was  always  most  punctilious  in 
the  social  ceremonial  of  life.  WTien  he  came  down  to  dinner, 
very  late,  of  course,  he  Avas  correct  in  evening  dress,  the  rosette 
in  place,  and  we  thought  there  was  just  a  suggestion  of 
hesitation.  But  it  was  only  a  suggestion.  At  once  he  gave 
his  arm  to  E.,  who  was  in  short  cycling  skirt,  and  as  we  went 
into  the  dining-room  he  turned  to  her,  and,  to  a  question  that 
had  never  been  asked,  answered,  "  Mais,  oui,  Princesse," 
as  who  should  say,  royalty  can  do  no  wrong.  He  was  down 
to  see  us  off  in  the  morning.  "  Well,  you  know,  can't  I  hold 
something  ?  "  he  offered,  as  E.  mounted  her  bicycle,  and 
afterwards,  as  he  watched  us  wheel  along  the  sea-front,  he 
told  Mr.  Kennedy,  "  After  all,  O.K.,  there's  something  in  it  !  " 
In  the  autumn.  Whistler  was  again  in  Paris,  and  the  Eden 
case,  in  the  Cour  de  Cassation,  was  fixed  for  November  17. 
It  was  heard  before  President  Perivier,  Maitre  Beurdeiey  for 
the  second  time  defending  Whistler.  Mr.  Heinemann  came 
over  especially  from  London,  and  was  mth  him  in  court. 
Judgment  was  given  on  December  2.  The  affair,  in  the  mean- 
while, had  been  talked  about,  and  the  court  was  crowded. 
The  judgment  went  as  entirely  in  WTiistler's  favour  as,  in  the 
Lower  Court,  it  had  gone  against  him.  He  was  to  keep  the 
picture,  on  condition  that  he  made  it  unrecognisable  as  a 
portrait  of  Lady  Eden,  which  already  had  been  done  ;  Sir 
William  Eden  was  to  have  the  hundred  guineas  oack,  which 
already  had  been  returned,  and  5  per  cent,  interest ; 
Whistler  was  to  pay  forty  pounds  damages  with  interest  and 
the  costs  of  the  first  trial,  and  the  Baronet  to  pay  the  costs  of 
appeal.  Mr.  MacMonnies,  who  also  was  with  Whistler  in 
court,  writes  us  : 

"  Whistler  was  very  much  tickled  at  having  added  a  clause  to 
the  Code  Nwpolcon — to  the  effect  that  a  work  of  art  was  the  pro- 
perty of  the  artist  until  it  liad  passed  out  of  his  hands  (I  beUeve 
that  was  it).     During  the  trial,  it  was  decided  by  the  judges  that 
196  [1897 


MASTER  STP:PHEN   MAXUKL 

{Arrangement  in  Grey) 


THE  END  OF  THE  EDEN  CASE 

the  picture  should  be  produced  when  needed.  (Mr.  Wliistler  had 
asked  me  to  sit  beside  him.)  Mr.  Whistler  whispered  in  my  ear 
'  MacMonnies,  take  the  picture  and  get  out  \nth  it.'  As  we  sat 
under  the  judges'  noses,  and  the  court  room  was  packed  with 
admirers  and  enemies  of  his,  and  court  officials,  I  made  a  distinct 
spot  as  I  walked  down  the  aisle  with  the  picture  under  my  arm. 
And  Whistler  showed  his  admirable  generalship  in  the  case,  as 
no  one  of  the  gendarmes  could  stop  me.  So  all  anybody  could  do 
was  to  watch  it  disappear  out  of  the  door." 

Afterwards,  Whistler's  account  to  us  was  that  the  Pro- 
cureur  de  la  Republiqiie  had  been  splendid  ;  that  the  whole 
affair  was  a  pubhc  recognition  of  his  position  ;  that  the  trial 
made  history,  established  a  precedent,  proving  the  right  of 
the  artist  to  his  own  work  ;  that  a  new  clause  had  been  added 
to  the  Code  Napoleon — he  had  "  wiped  up  the  floor  "  with  the 
Baronet  before  all  Paris,  which  was  his  intention  from  the 
first.  He  wished  it  to  be  widely  known  that  in  the  law 
records  of  France  his  name  would  go  down  with  Napoleon's  : 

"  Well,  you  know,  take  my  word  for  it,  Joseph,  the  first  duty 
of  a  good  general  when  he  has  won  the  battle  is  to  say  so,  other- 
wise, the  people  always  dull — the  Briton  especially — fail  to 
understand,  and  it  is  an  unsettled  point  in  history  for  ever. 
Victory  is  not  complete  until  the  wounded  are  looked  after  and 
the  dead  counted." 

The  trial  over,  he  at  once  proposed  to  Mr.  Heinemann  to 
make  "  a  beautiful  little  book  "  of  it,  and  he  began  to  arrange 
the  report  with  his  "  Reflections  "  for  publication.  During 
many  months  proofs  of  The  Baronet  and  the  Butterfly  filled 
his  pockets.  As  he  had  read  pages  of  the  Ten  o' Clock  to  Mr. 
Alan  S.  Cole,  so  he  read  pages  of  The  Baronet  and  the  Butterfly 
to  us,  and  sometimes  to  the  Council  of  the  International  after 
the  meetings,  a  mistake,  for  there  were  members  who  had  not 
the  intelligence  to  understand  it — or  him.  His  care  with 
this  book  was  no  less  than  with  The  Gentle  Art.  Every  word 
in  the  marginal  notes,  everj'  Butterfly,  was  a  matter  of 
1897]  197 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

thought  and  arrangement.  "  Beautiful,  you  know — isn't  it 
beautiful  ?  "  he  would  say,  Avhen  a  page  or  a  paragraph 
specially  pleased  him — and  nothing  pleased  him  more  than 
the  Butterfly  following  the  "  Reflection  "  on  page  43.  There 
he  quotes  Mr.  George  Moore  : 

"  I  undertook  a  journey  to  Paris  in  the  depth  of  winter,  had 
two  shocking  passages  across  the  Channel  and  spent  twenty-five 
pounds.  All  this  worry  is  the  commission  I  received  for  my 
trouble  in  the  matter." 

Whistler's  "  Reflection  "  was  ! 

"  Why !  damme  sir  !  he  must  have  had  a  Valentine  himself — 
the  sea-saddened  expert." 

This  was  followed  by  the  Butterfly  he  thought  "  splendid — 
actually  rolling  back  with  laughter,  you  know  !  "  A  new 
feature  was  the  toad  printed  just  above  the  dedication  : 

"  To  those  confreres  across  the  Channel  who,  refraining  from 
intrusive  demonstration,  with  a  pluck  and  dehcacy  all  their  own, 
'sat  tight'  during  the  struggle,  these  decrees  of  the  Judges  are 
affectionately  dedicated." 

Below,  a  Butterfly  bows  gracefully  and  sends  its  sting  to 
England.  The  tiny  toad  is  the  only  realistic  drawing  in  his 
books,  and  to  make  it  realistic  he  needed  a  model.  He 
thought  of  applying  at  the  Zoological  Gardens,  was  promised 
one  by  Mr.  Wimbush,  whose  studio  was  in  Fitzroy  Street, 
and  finally,  was  provided  with  a  good  specimen  by  his  step- 
son, Mr.  E.  Godwin.  He  put  the  toad  in  a  paper  box,  forgot 
all  about  it,  and  was  shocked  when  he  heard  it  was  dead. 

"  You  know,  they  say  I  starved  it.  Well,  it  must  have  caught 
a  fly  or  two,  and  I  thought  toads  hved  in  stone  or  amber — or 
something — for  hundreds  of  years — don't  you  know  the  stories  ? — 
Perhaps  it  was  because  I  hadn't  the  amber  !  " 

The  Baronet  and  the  Butterfly  was  published  in  Paris  by 
M.  Louis  Henry  May  on  May  13, 1899.  Wliistler  objected  to 
198  [1897 


THE  END  OF  THE  EDEN  CASE 

the  date.  But  on  the  13th  it  appeared  and  the  result  justified 
his  superstition.  It  did  not  attract  the  same  attention  as 
The  Gentle  Art.  When  we  saw  him  in  Paris  that  same  month, 
he  seemed  to  think  the  fault  was  with  the  critics,  who  were 
keeping  up  the  old  played-out  business  of  "  unworthy," 
the  "  old  misunderstanding  and  misrepresentation."  The 
truth  is,  however,  that  interest  in  the  Eden  trial  had  never 
been  as  great  as  he  fancied,  and  the  report  was  dull  reading, 
principally  through  the  absence  of  cross-examination  which 
would,  in  England,  have  given  Whistler  the  opportunity  of 
"  scalping  "  his  victim.  The  Gentle  Art  was  made  up  of 
Whistler's  writings  and  reports  of  his  answers  in  court ;  The 
Baronet  and  the  Butterfly  was  made  up  of  speeches  of  advocates 
and  judges.  In  the  marginal  notes,  the  dedication,  the 
argument,  he  was  brilliant  and  witty,  and  the  Butterfly  was 
gay  as  ever.  There  was  too  little  Whistler  in  it,  that  was  its 
fault. 

The  book  was  one  only  of  many  schemes  that  occujjied  him 
during  these  years. 

The  International  Society  of  Sculptors,  Painters  and  Gravers 
was  being  organised,  and  the  Atelier  Carmen  in  Paris,  which 
he  was  to  direct,  was  being  planned,  and  they  were  both  so 
important  that  their  history  is  reserved  for  other  chapters. 
Another  venture  from  which  he  hoped  great  things,  was  his 
endeavour  to  dispense  with  the  middleman  in  art.  He  could 
not  reconcile  himself  to  the  large  sums  gained  by  buying  and 
selling  his  work  since  1892.  Over  the  sale  of  old  work,  he 
had  no  control ;  the  sale  of  new  he  determined  to  keep  in  his 
own  hands.  He  would  be  his  own  agent,  set  up  his  own  shop, 
form  a  trust  in  Whistlers.  We  think  it  was  in  1896,  he  first 
spoke  to  us  about  it,  delighted,  sure  that  he  was  to  succeed 
financially  at  last.  In  1897,  rumours  were  spread  of  a 
"  Whistler  Syndicate."  In  1898,  advertisements  of  the 
"  Company  of  the  Butterfly  "  appeared  in  the  Athenceum — 
1S97]  199 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

the  Company  composed,  as  far  as  we  ever  knew,  of  James 
McNeill  ^Miistler  only.  Two  rooms  were  taken  on  the  first 
floor  at  No.  2  Hinde  Street,  Manchester  Square,  close  to  the 
Wallace  Gallery.  They  were  charming,  a  delicate  tint  on 
the  walls,  the  floor  covered  with  matting,  white  muslin 
curtains  at  the  windows.  A  few  prints  were  hung.  One  or 
two  small  pictures  stood  on  easels.  To  go  to  ^^^listler  in  the 
studio  for  his  w'ork  was  one  thing  ;  it  was  quite  another  to 
go  to  a  shop  run  by  no  one  knew  whom,  which  was  half  the 
time  closed,  and  wliich  attracted  scarcely  a  visitor  when 
opened.  We  doubt  if  anv'thing  was  ever  sold  there,  we  never 
met  anj^  one  in  the  place.  The  rooms  were  soon  turned  over 
to  3Ir.  Heinemann  for  a  show  of  Mr.  Nicholson's  colour-prints, 
and,  after  that,  no  more  was  heard  of  the  "  Company  of  the 
Butterfly." 

There  had  been  another  reason  for  its  establishment,  apart 
from  the  sale  of  his  pictures.  So  many  people  came  to  the 
studio  for  so  many  reasons  that,  had  he  let  them  all  in,  he 
would  have  had  no  time  to  himself.  Those  whom  he  wanted 
to  see,  if  there  was  any  reason  for  seeing  them,  artists  and 
students  who  were  in  sympathy,  had  no  difficulty  in  getting 
in.  Those  who  M-anted  to  buy  pictures  should  go  to  the 
"  Company  of  the  Butterflj'  "  and  buy  them  there  without 
interrupting  his  work.  But  no  shop  could  dispose  of  the 
constant  ^■isits  from  the  merely  curious,  from  photographers 
asking  for  his  portrait,  journaUsts  asking  for  an  interview, 
literary  people  anxious  to  make  articles  or  books  about  him 
who  would  write  to  arrange  for  a  certain  hour  and  then  appear 
without  waiting  for  a  reply.  One,  who  had  written  to  say 
he  was  coming  with  a  letter  of  introduction,  on  his  arrival 
found  the  door  carefully  fastened  and  heard  ^^'histle^  gaily 
whistling  inside,  and  that  was  all  the  indignant  visitor  heard 
or  saw  of  him.  There  is  a  story  of  an  American  collector  who, 
caUing  one  day  when  not  wanted,  and  after  wasting  much 
200  [1897 


IMUMUAIT  OF  A    UAliY 


THE  END  OF  THE  EDEN  CASE 

of  Whistler's   time    and   arriving    at  no  conclusion,    finally 
said  : 

"  How  much  for  the  whole  lot  ?  " 

"  Five  millions." 

"  What  ?  " 

"  My  posthumous  prices  !  " 

There  are  numerous  stories  of  Whistler's  manner  of 
meeting  the  hordes  who  tried  to  force  themselves  into  the 
studio,  or  even  friends  who  came  uninvited.  He  would  open 
the  door  just  wide  enough  to  show  the  great  palette  and  sheaf 
of  brushes  in  his  hand  and  regret  that  he  was  with  a  sitter. 
Once  a  friend  stretched  out  his  hand,  felt  the  brushes,  and 
they  were  dry  ;  he  was  let  in.  Mr.  Eddy  gives  another 
instance  : 

"  An  acquaintance  had  brought,  without  invitation,  a  friend, 
'  a  distinguished  and  clever  woman,'  to  the  studio  in  the  Rue 
Notre-Dame-des-Champs.  They  reached  the  door,  both  out  of 
breatli  from  their  long  chmb.     '  Ah  !   my  dear  Wliistler,'  drawled 

C ,  '  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  bringing  Lady  D to  see 

you.  I  knew  you  would  be  delighted.' — '  Delighted  !  I'm  sure  ; 
quite  beyond  expression,  but '—mysteriously,  and  holding  the 
door  so  as  to  bar  their  entrance — '  my  dear  Lady  D — — ,  I  would 
never  forgive  our  friend  for  bringing  you  up  six  flights  of  stairs  on 
so  hot  a  day  to  visit  a  studio  at  one  of  these — eh — pagan  moments 
when — and  he  glanced  furtively  behind  him,  and  still  further  closed 
the  door — '  it  is  absolutely  impossible  for  a  lady  to  be  received. 
Upon  my  soul,  I  should  never  forgive  liim.' — And  Whistler  bowed 
them  down  the  six  flights  and  returned  to  the  portrait  of  a  very 
sedate  old  gentleman,  who  had  taken  advantage  of  the  interruption 
to  break  for  a  moment  the  rigor  of  his  pose." 

The  "  Company  of  the  Butterfly  "  never  relieved  him  of 
the  visitors  who  were  more  eager  to  see  him  than  his  work. 
But  this  he  did  not  discover  until  he  had  devoted  to  the 
venture  far  more  time  than  he  had  to  spare,  during  the 
crowded  years  of  its  existence. 

181)7]  201 


CHAPTER  XLIII.  BETWEEN  LONDON 
AND  PARIS.  THE  YEARS  EIGHTEEN 
N I N  E  T  Y  -  S  E  A'  E  N  TO  NINETEEN 
HUNDRED 

AFTER  his  marriage,  \Vhistler  was  curiously  unfortunate 
in  his  choice  of  apartments  and  studios.  The  studio 
in  the  Rue  Notre-Dame-des-Champs,  on  the  sixth  floor,  was 
the  worst  possible  for  a  man  with  a  weak  heart  to  chmb  to  ; 
the  ajDartment  in  the  Rue  du  Bac,  low  and  damp,  was  as  bad 
for  a  man  who  caught  cold  easily.  He  was  constantly  ill 
during  the  winter  of  1897-98,  which  he  passed  in  Paris. 
Influenza  kept  him  in  bed  in  November,  in  January,  and 
again  in  ^larch,  when  he  was  dull  and  listless  as  never  before, 
except  in  Venice  after  the  sirocco,  he  said  :  "I  am  so  tired — 
I  who  am  never  tired  !  " 

Whistler's  heart,  always  weak,  was  beginning  to  trouble 
him.  He  had  often  been  ill  before,  but,  ner\'ous  as  he  was 
about  his  health,  he  would  never  reaUse  the  seriousness  of  his 
condition.  We  have  known  him,  when  really  too  ill  to  work, 
get  up  out  of  bed  in  order  to  accomplish  sometliing  important. 
A  few  years  before,  confined  with  quinsy  to  his  brother's 
house,  forced  to  write  what  he  wanted  to  say  on  a  slate,  when 
some  one  he  did  not  want  to  see  was  announced,  he  broke  into 
words,  "  Tell  him  to  go  away  !  "  Illness  suggested  death, 
and  no  man  ever  shrank  more  from  the  thought,  or  mention, 
of  death,  than  Whistler.  There  was  always  in  Ufe  so  much 
for  him  to  do,  and  so  little  time  in  which  to  do  it.  He 
would  tell  his  brother  it  was  useless  for  doctors  to  know  so 
202  [1897 


PORTRAIT  OF  WHISTLER 
Pen  ami  Ink  Drawing,  Sliidi/for  Purlrait,  Brown  and  Gold 


BETWEEN  LONDON  AND  PARIS 

much  if  they  had  not  yet  discovered  the  ehxir  of  hfe.  Why 
not  try  to  find  it,  he  urged  Dr.  Whistler.  Didn't  it  seem  as 
if  it  must  be  somewhere  in  the  heart  of  the  unknown  ?  Who 
could  tell  ?     It  must  be  there. 

In  the  studio,  he  now  worked  harder  than  ever.  It  seemed 
almost  as  if  illness  made  him  foresee  that  his  time  was  short 
and  he  was  goaded  on  by  the  thought  of  the  many  things 
still  to  finish.  AVhen  he  was  in  London,  we  were  distressed 
by  his  fatigue  at  the  end  of  his  long  day  in  the  studio,  but  he 
told  us  he  was  like  the  old  cart-horse  that  could  keep  going 
as  long  as  it  was  in  the  traces,  but  dropped  down  the  minute 
it  was  set  free.  When  he  was  in  Paris,  his  letters  were  full  of 
work  and  of  the  "  amazing  things  "  going  on  in  the  Rue 
Notre-Dame-des-Champs.     Often  he  said, 

"  Really,  you  know,  I  could  almost  laugh  at  the  extraordinary 
progress  I  am  making,  and  the  lovely  things  I  am  inventing — 
work  beyond  anything  I  have  ever  done  before." 

He  was  only  beginning  to  know  and  to  understand,  he  felt. 
All  that  had  gone  before  was  experimental.  There  were  new 
portraits.  In  1897,  one  was  begun  of  Mr.  George  Vanderbilt 
— "  The  Modern  Philip  :  "  the  large  full-length,  in  riding 
dress,  his  whip  in  his  hand,  standing  against  the  deep,  shadowy 
background  of  the  later  portraits.  The  canvas  was  sent  from 
one  studio  to  the  other,  just  as  Whistler  and  Mr.  Vanderbilt 
happened  to  be  together  either  in  Paris  or  London.  Probably 
not  one  of  his  other  portraits  of  men  interested  Whistler  so 
much  ;  certainly  not  one  was  finer  than  the  picture  when  we 
saw  it  in  the  London  studio.  But  it  was  a  wreck  in  the  Paris 
Memorial  Exhibition  of  1905.  Like  some  of  the  other 
portraits  of  this  period,  it  had  been  worked  over  too 
often.  He  also,  in  these  years,  painted  Mrs.  Vanderbilt,  the 
oval  Ivory  and  Gold  shown  at  the  Salon  of  1902.  "  Carmen," 
his  Paris  model,  a  rich,  luxuriant  beauty,  sat  to  him  for 
several  pictures.  Other  portraits  were  started  a  year  or  so 
1897]  203 


.31 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

later  of  his  brother-in-law,  Mr.  Bimie  Philip,  and  of  Mr. 
Elwell,  an  artist  and  old  friend.  In  May  1898,  at  the 
Rue  Notre-Dame-des-Champs,  Whistler  showed  lis  the  full- 
length  of  himself,  in  long  overcoat,  called  Gold  and  Brown  in 
the  Universal  Exhibition  of  1900,  but  far  from  successful, 
and  he  had  little  pleasure  in  it.  Before  he  finished  it. 
Miss  Marian  Draughn,  a  very  beautiful  American  girl,  began 
to  pose  for  him. 

This  was  the  period,  too,  of  the  series  of  small  heads  and 
half-lengths  for  which  children  usually  sat.  He  loved 
children  and  instances  of  his  kindliness  to  those  who  posed 
for  him  come  from  every  side.  Mr.  Ernest  G.  Bro^vn 
remembers  Whistler's  thoughtfulness  and  consideration  when 
his  daughter  sat  for  Pretty  Nelly  Brown,  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  of  the  series.  We  have  the  same  story  from  Mr. 
Croal  Thomson,  of  whose  daughter,  Little  Evelyn,  Whistler  *' 

made  a  Uthograph.     When  he  went  to  the  house  at  Highgate  j 

Evelyn  would  run  to  meet  him  with  outstretched  hands,  her  i 

face  lifted  up  to  be  kissed,  and  while  he  worked  the  other 
children  would  come  and  look  on.  IVIr.  Alan  S.  Cole  has  told 
us  that  once  WTiistler  found  his  three  little  daughters  dec- 
orating the  drawing-room  and  hanging  up  a  big  "  welcome  " 
in  greens  and  flowers  for  the  Mother  who  was  away  and  to 
return  that  afternoon.  He  forgot  what  he  had  come  for,  and 
helped,  as  eager  and  excited  as  they,  and  stayed,  a  child  f 

with  the  others,  until  Mrs.  Cole  arrived.     He  was  walking  iv 

from  the  Paris  studio  one  day  with  Mrs.  Clifford  Addams,  and  ' 

they  saw  some  children  playing  ;    he  made  her  stop^"  I  , 

must  look  at  the  babbies,"  he  said,  "  you  know,  I  love  the 
babbies  !  "  Later,  during  his  last  illness,  he  liked  to  have 
]\Irs.  Addams'  own  little  girl,  Diane,  in  the  studio  with  him. 
And  there  are  the  portraits  of  Mr.  Brandon  Thomas'  baby. 
Master  Stephen  Manuel,  and  others,  that  show  his  pleasure 
in  painting  his  small  sitters.  The  children  of  the  street 
204  ['S98 


LILLIE   IN   OUR  ALLEY 

( Iliown  and  Gold) 


BETWEEN  LONDON  AND  PARIS 

adored  him,  that  is,  the  children  of  Chelsea  and  Fitzroy  Street 
who  were  used  to  artists  and  knew  him  well.  There  was  one 
he  was  for  ever  telling  us  about,  a  child  of  five  or  six,  whose 
precocity  frightened  while  it  fascinated  him.  "  I  likes 
whusky,"  she  confided  to  him  one  day,  "  and  I  likes  Scoatch 
best  !  "  She  described  her  Christmas  at  home  :  "  Father, 
'e  wus  drunk,  Mother  wus  drunk.  Sister  wus  drunk,  I  wus 
drunk — and  we  made  the  cat  drunk  too  !  "  A  still  younger 
child  gave  him  sittings,  a  baby  of  not  more  than  three,  the 
little  model  for  many  of  the  pastels.  She  and  the  mother 
were  resting  one  afternoon.  Whistler  watching  her  every 
movement.  "  Really,"  he  said,  "  you  are  a  beautiful  little 
thing  !  "  She  looked  up  at  him,  "  Yes,  I  is.  Whistler,"  she 
lisped.  There  were  exceptions,  and  his  popularity  with 
children  did  not  help  him  one  Sunday  afternoon,  the  only 
time  it  is  possible  to  sketch  with  comfort  in  the  City,  when  he 
went  with  J.  to  make  a  study  of  Clerkenwell  Church  tower 
which  was  about  to  be  restored.  They  drove  to  the  church, 
but  the  light  was  bad  and  the  colour  not  right,  so  they 
wandered  off  to  Cloth  Fair,  already  known  to  Whistler  and, 
until  a  few  months  ago,  the  most  perfect,  really  the  only,  bit 
of  old  London.  Though  Whistler  had  worked  there  many 
times  before,  on  this  afternoon  the  children  did  not  approve 
of  him.  After  a  short  encounter  in  which  they,  as  always,  got 
the  better,  'WTiistler  and  J.  retired  to  another  cab  followed  by 
any  refuse  that  came  handy.  But  the  children  he  painted. 
The  Little  Rose  of  Lyme  Regis  no  less  than  The  Little  Sophie 
of  Soho  and  Lillie  in  our  Alley,  the  small  Italian  waifs  and 
strays,  were  his  friends,  and  no  painter  ever  gave  the  grace 
and  feeling  of  childhood  more  sympathetically  than  he  in 
their  portraits. 

He  was  also  absorbed  in  a  series  of  nudes.  Few  of  his 
paintings  toward  the  end  satisfied  him  so  entirely  as  the 
small  Phryne  the  Superb,  Builder  of  Temples  which  he  sent 
1898]  205 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

first  to  the  International  in  1901  and  next  to  the  Salon  in 
1902.     The  first  time  he  showed  it  to  us  he  asked  : 

"  Would  she  be  more  superb — more  truly  the  Builder  of  Temples 
— had  I  painted  her  what  is  called  life-size  by  the  foolish  critics 
ivho  always  bring  out  their  foot-rule  ?  Is  it  a  question  of  feet 
and  inches  when  you  look  at  her  ?  " 

He  intended  afterwards  to  paint  an  Eve,  an  Odalisque, 
a  Bathsheba,  and  a  Danse,  all  on  a  very  large  scale.  He  at 
one  time  arranged  that  his  sketches  for  the  designs  should 
be  set  up  on  the  canvas  by  his  apprentices,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Clifford  Addams,  but  this  was  another  of  his  unrealised  plans. 
Suggestions  for  the  paintings  were  in  the  little  pastels  of 
undraped  or  slightly  draped  figures,  for  which  he  found  the 
perfect  model  in  London.  Even  when  not  in  the  studio,  he 
kept  sketching  her  from  memory  and  he  was  in  despair  when 
she  married  and  went  to  some  remote  colony.  These  pastels 
are  numerous  and  rank  with  his  perfect  work.  They  are 
drawings  on  bro^vn  paper  of  girls  dancing,  posing  with  fans, 
bending  over  bowls,  drinking  tea,  usually  filmy  draperies 
floating  about  them  ;  in  some  a  young  mother  holds  a  child 
in  her  arms  or  on  her  knees.  Nothing  could  apparently  be 
slighter  than  the  means  by  which  the  effect  is  produced  ; 
the  modelling  given  with  a  few-  lines,  the  colour  just  a  sug- 
gestion. But  they  have  the  exquisiteness  of  little  Tanagra 
figures  and  are  as  complete. 

All  this  work  was  done  with  an  almost  feverish  concern 
about  mediums  and  materials  and  methods.  He  usually 
sat  now  as  he  worked,  and  he  wore  spectacles,  sometimes  two 
pairs,  one  over  the  other.  He  was  never  more  careful  with 
the  quality  and  mixing  of  his  colours,  the  size  and  texture 
and  preparation  of  his  canvas.  At  last,  the  knowledge 
was  coming  to  him,  he  said  again  and  again.  And  he  was 
never  more  successful  in  obtaining  the  unity  and  harmony 
he  had  always  sought,  in  hiding  the  labour  by  which  it  was 
206  [1898 


,A 


y  >, 


■---/  /  ^ 


■«riw^i'^rt^>r:. ' 


/"■I 


A  CUP  OF  TKA 

(Pastel) 


BETWEEN  LONDON  AND  PARIS 

obtained,  and  in  giving  to  his  painting  the  beauty  of  sur- 
face prized  so  highly.  On  the  smaller  canvas,  there  was 
less  difficulty  in  his  method  of  painting  the  picture  as  a  whole, 
and  not  building  it  up  out  of  successively  painted  parts. 
Often  the  old  charge  of  slightness  and  "  no  drawing  "  was 
brought  against  the  later  pictures  simply  because  in  them  he 
achieved  the  perfection  he  required  of  himself,  and  they 
looked  "  so  easy  ;  "  because  his  canvases,  as  a  rule,  were 
uniform  in  size,  and  his  subjects  bore  a  certain  superficial 
resemblance  to  each  other,  the  objection,  which  always 
angered  him,  was  made  that  he  could  no  longer  originate 
new  schemes,  and  he  was  reproached  with  monotony. 
Though  other  portraits  are  more  elaborate,  not  one  is  more 
powerful  and  strong,  more  masterly  as  a  study  of  character, 
and  therefore  more  individual  than  The  Master  Smith  of 
Lyme  Regis.  When  it  is  contrasted  with  The  Little  Rose,  the 
embodiment  of  simple,  sweet,  healthy  childhood,  and  The 
Little  Lady  Sophie  of  Soho  and  Lillie  in  our  Alley,  the  sickly 
atmosphere  of  the  slums  reflected  in  their  strange  beauty, 
and  these  again  with  the  exuberant  colour  and  life  of  Carmen, 
there  can  be  no  question  of  the  variety  in  Whistler's  later 
work,  though,  at  the  very  end,  a  certain  manner  that  might 
have  grown  into  mannerism  became  more  marked.  There  was 
a  similarity  in  the  general  design.  Most  of  the  pictures  were 
heads  and  half-lengths  of  children  and,  except  in  the  finest, 
noses,  eyes  and  mouth  were  alike  in  character,  and  hands 
were  badly  drawn  and  clumsily  put  in.  The  colour  was 
mostly  beautiful  and  he  exulted  in  it,  but,  during  the  last 
year  or  so,  he  must  have  known  as  well  as  anybody  that  his 
power  of  work  was  leaving  him. 

Whistler  spent  the  summer  of  1898  chiefly  in  London, 
going  first  to  'Mr.  Heinemann's  at  Whitehall  Court,  then  to 
Garlant's.  The  delightful  evenings  of  the  year  before  began 
again  for  us,  and  there  was  a  fresh  interest  for  him  in  the  war 

1898]  207 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

between  the  United  States  and  Spain.  It  was  "  a  wonderful 
and  beautiful  war,"  he  thought,  the  Spaniards  were  gentlemen, 
and  his  pockets  were  filled  with  newspaper  clippings  to  prove 
it  all.  If  we  pointed  out  a  blunder  on  the  part  of  our  soldiers, 
we  gave  chance  a  share  in  our  victories,  he  was  fvu*ious  : 

"  Why  say  if  any  but  Spaniards  had  been  at  the  top  of  San 
Juan,  we  never  would  have  got  there  ? — Why  question  the  if  ? — 
The  facts  are  all  that  count.  No  fight  could  be  more  beautifully 
managed.     I  am  telling  you  ! — I,  a  West  Point  man,  know." 

He  was  going  out  more  by  this  time  and  seeing  more  people. 
But  his  pleasure  in  general  society  was  less  than  before  his 
wife's  death  and  evidently  he  preferred  the  quiet  and  want 
of  restraint  of  the  evenings  with  us.  Then,  too,  chance 
encounters  in  our  flat  were  often  the  source  of  entertainment. 
One  we  recall  most  vividly  was  with  Frederick  Sandys  whom 
he  had  not  met  for  almost  thirty  years.  Sandys  was  with  us 
in  the  late  afternoon  when  ^^^listle^  knocked  his  usual 
exaggerated  postman's  knock  that  could  not  be  mistaken, 
followed  by  the  unfaihng  peal  at  the  bell.  Sandys  seemed 
agitated,  but  there  was  no  escape.  They  gave  each  other  a 
chilly  recognition  and  sat  down  and  glared,  ^^Tiistler  looking 
precisely  like  Boldini's  portrait.  But  presently  they  began 
to  talk,  and  they  talked  till  the  early  hours  of  the  morning 
as  if  they  were  back  at  Tudor  House ;  Sandys,  as  then,  in 
the  white  waistcoat  with  gold  buttons,  but  bent  with  age, 
Whistler  as  straight  and  erect,  but  now  wrinkled  and  grey. 

He  returned  to  Paris  late  in  the  autumn,  setthng  there  for 
the  mnter.  Except  for  his  attacks  of  illness,  there  was  but 
one  interruption  to  his  work.  jNIr.  Heinemann  was  married 
at  Porto  D'Anzio  in  February  1899,  and  ^\^listler  went  to 
Italy  to  act  as  best  man  at  the  wedding.  He  made  on  this 
journey  his  first  and  only  visit  to  Rome.  He  was  disappointed. 
To  us  he  described  the  city  as  "  a  bit  of  an  old  ruin  alongside 
of  a  railway  station  where  I  saw — Mrs.  Potter  Palmer."  Of 
208  [1899 


THE  LITTLE  LADY  SOPHIE  OF  SOHO 
Rose  and  Gold 


BETWEEN  LONDON  AND  PARIS 

the  many  other  things  he  admitted  afterwards  that  he  had 
seen,  nothing  interested  him  but  St.  Peter's  : 

"  Rome  was  awful — a  hard  sky  all  the  time,  a  glaring  sun  and 
a  strong  wind.  After  I  left  the  railway  station,  there  were  big 
buildings  more  like  Whiteley's  than  anything  I  expected  in  the 
Eternal  City.  St.  Peter's  was  fine,  with  its  great  yellow  walls, 
the  interior  too  big  perhaps,  but  you  had  only  to  go  inside  to 
know  where  Wren  got  his  ideas — how  he,  well,  you  know,  robbed 
Peter's  to  build  Paul's  !  And  I  hke  the  Vatican,  the  Swiss 
Guards,  great  big  feUows,  loUing  about,  as  in  Dumas  ;  they  made 
you  think  of  D'Artagnan,  Aramis  and  the  others.  And  Michael 
Angelo  ?  a  tremendous  feUow,  yes  ;  the  frescoes  in  the  Sistine 
Chapel  ?— interesting  as  pictures,  but  with  all  the  legs  and  arms  of 
the  figures  sprawhng  everywhere,  I  could  not  see  the  decoration. 
There  can  be  no  decoration  without  repose  :  a  tremendous  feUow, 
but  not  so  much  in  the  David  and  other  things  I  was  shown  in 
Rome  and  Florence,  as  in  that  one  unfinished  picture  at  the 
National  Gallery.  There  is  often  elegance  in  the  loggie  of  Raphael, 
but  the  big  frescoes  of  the  stanze  did  not  interest  me." 

Velasquez's  portrait  of  Innocent  in  the  Doria  Palace,  he, 
unfortunately,  did  not  see. 

During   the    journey   to    Porto    D'Anzio,    Princess  , 

one  of  the  wedding  guests,  who  heard  vaguely  that  Whistler 
was  an  artist,  inquired  of  him  : 

"  Monsieur  fait  de  la  peinture,  n'est  ce  pas  ?  " 

"  Out,  Princesse." 

"  On  me  Vavait  dit.     Moi  aussi,  fen  fait,  Monsieur." 

"  Charmant,  Princesse,  nous  sommes  des  collegues." 

On  the  way  back  from  Rome,  Whistler  stopped  at  Florence. 
Of  his  stay  there,  Mr.  J.  Kerr-Lawson  wrote  to  us  : 

"  McNeill  has  been  here  and  just  gone — we  had  him  hghtly  on 
our  hands  all  day  yesterday. 

"  VVc  didn't '  do  '  Florence  for  there  was  a  fierce  glaring  sun  and 

a  horrible  Tramontane  raging — so  we  spent  the  best  of  the  morning 

trying  to  %\Tite  a  letter  in  the  Roccoco  manner  to  the  Syndic  of 

Murano  quite  unsuccessfully.     [This  \\as  after  the  awards  in  the 

1899]  >i:o  209 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

Venice  International  Exhibition.]  The  effort  seems  to  have  been 
suggested  by  the  festive  oratory  at  Porto  D'Anzio.  The  Pope  and 
the  King  both  sent  delegates.  The  purple  and  scarlet  speeches  of 
the  Monsignori  and  the  Cardinal  seem  to  have  inspired  the  Master 
to  emulate  their  achievements  in  rhetoric.  However,  we  found 
that  EngUsh  prose  could  not  bear  the  strain  of  perpetual  super- 
latives, and  so  our  designs  upon  the  poor  Uttle  Syndic  came  to 
nothing. 

"  After  luncheon  I  took  liimdown  to  the  Uifizi,  where  we  had  a 
good  deal  of  fun  in  the  Portrait  Gallery.  We  seemed  to  be  the 
only  people  rash  enough  to  brave  the  awiul  wind,  for  we  saw  no 
one  in  the  GaUery  but  a  frozen  Guardia.  He — poor  fellow — was 
brushed  aside  by  a  magnificent  and  truly  awe-inspiring  gesture  as 
we  approached  that  battered  and  begrimed  portrait  in  which 
Velasquez  stiU  looks  out  upon  the  world  which  he  has  mastered 
with  an  expression  of  superbly  arrogant  scorn. 

"  It  was  a  dramatic  moment — the  flat-brimmed  chapmu  de 
haul  forme  came  ofi  with  a  grand  sweep  and  was  deposited  on  a 
stool  with  the  long  stick,  and  then  the  Master,  standing  back 
about  six  feet  from  the  picture  and  drawing  liimself  up  to  much 
more  than  his  own  full  natural  height,  with  liis  left  hand  upon  his 
breast  and  the  right  thrust  out  magisterially,  exclaimed  '  Quelle 
allure  ! '  Then  you  should  have  seen  him.  After  the  solemn  act  of 
Homage,  when  he  had  resumed  his  hat  and  pole,  we  relaxed  con- 
siderably over  the  lesser  immortals  of  this  crazy  and  incongruous 
VaUiaUa — what  an  ill-assorted  company !  How  did  they  all  get 
together  ?  Liotard,  the  Sv\iss,  jostles  Michael  Angelo,  Guiseppi 
MacPherson  rubs  shoulders  with  Titian,  Herkomer  hangs  beside 
Ingres,  and  Poynter  is  a  pendant  to  Sir  Joshua.  There  are  the 
greatest  and  the  least,  the  noblest  and  the  meanest  brought 
together  by  the  capricious  foUy  of  succeeding  directors  and  har- 
monised by  that  touch  of  vanity  that  makes  the  whole  world 
akin. 

"  One  wonders  whom  they  will  ask  next.  Certainly  not 
WTiistler.  They  knew  quite  well  he  was  here,  but  not  the 
shghtest  notice  was  taken  of  him.  En  revanche,  every  now  and 
then  some  vulgar  mediocrity  passes  this  way  and  then  the  fooUsh 
Florentines  are  lavish  with  their  laurels." 

After  some  of  these  absences  from  Paris  and  his  studio. 
Whistler  discovered  that  pictures  and  prints  were  disappearing. 
210  [1899 


rill':  viuLixiST 


BETWEEN  LONDON  AND  PARIS 

It  worried  him,  and  various  means  were  taken  to  stop  the 
theft  and  to  recover  the  missing  articles.  We  have  httle 
doubt  that,  at  times.  Whistler  lost  prints  through  his  own 
carelessness.  We  know  that  once,  certainly,  his  method  of 
drying  his  etchings  between  sheets  of  blotting-paper  thrown 
on  the  floor  was  disastrous.  One  morning  an  artist  came  to 
see  us  bringing  a  number  of  beautiful  proofs  of  the  Venice  Set, 
still  in  sheets  of  blotting  paper  as  he  had  bought  them  from 
an  old  rag  and  paper  man  in  Red  Lion  Passage,  who  thought 
they  could  be  no  good  because  the  margins  were  cut  down  and 
who  sold  them  for  a  shilling  apiece.  The  artist  frankly 
admitted  that  he  did  not  care  for  them,  and  we  offered  him 
half  a  crown.  "  O,"  he  said,  "  as  you  are  willing  to  give 
that,  now  I  shall  find  out  what  they  are  really  worth."  He 
got  sixty  pounds  for  them,  but  several  of  the  prints  separately 
have  since  sold  for  very  much  more.  Accidents  like  this 
would  account  for  some  of  the  things  that  Whistler  thought 
were  stolen,  but  not  for  all.  A  few  works  that  had  disappeared 
were  actually  recovered  during  his  lifetime.  Shortly  after 
his  death,  many  were  sold  at  the  Hotel  Drouot,  and  more 
recently  others  of  the  missing  works  have  come  into  the  hands 
of  dealers.  Only  those  near  him  at  the  time  can  reahse  how 
much  this  troubled  and  annoyed  him  during  his  last  years. 
At  the  same  time,  too,  he  began  to  suffer  from  another  of  the 
evils  of  success.  Pictures  somewhat  resembling  his,  and 
attributed  to  him,  began  to  appear,  especially  at  auctions,  and 
others  were  sent  to  him  for  identification  or  signature,  by 
persons  who  had  purchased  them.  If  he  knew  beforehand 
that  one  of  these  shams  was  coming  up  in  the  auction  room, 
he  would  send  a  representative  to  try  and  stop  the  sale,  or,  if 
submitted  to  him,  he  would  object  to  give  it  up  again.  Neither 
expedient  met  with  marked  success.  Even  at  present  there 
is  at  least  one  person  who  is  deliberately  making  Whistlers, 
especially  water-colours. 
1899]  211 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

Whistler  could  not  stay  long  from  London,  and  the  early 
summer  of  1899  saw  him  back  once  more,  li\-ing  at  Garlant's 
and  making  his  usual  visits  to  Mr.  Heinemann,  now  at 
Weybridge.  He  was  in  town  for  the  sequel  to  the  Eden 
affair.  He  heard  that,  on  July  15,  there  was  to  be  a  sale  of 
Sir  William  Eden's  pictures  at  Christie's.  He  went  to  it, 
and  came  to  us  afterwards. 

"  Really,  it  has  been  beautiful^I  know  you  will  enjoy  it — It 
occurred  to  me  in  the  morning — the  Baronet's  sale  to-day — h'm — 
the  Butterfly  should  see  how  things  are  going  !  And  I  went 
home,  and  I  changed  my  morning  dress,  my  dandy  straw  hat — 
and  then — very  correct  and  elegant,  I  sauntered  do^n  King  Street 
into  Cliristie's.  At  the  top  of  the  stairway,  some  one  spoke  to 
me. — '  Well,  you  know,  my  dear  friend,'  I  said, '  I  do  not  know  who 
you  are,  but  you  shall  have  the  honour  of  taking  me  in ! '  And,  on 
his  arm,  I  walked  into  the  big  room.  The  auctioneer  was  crying, 
'  Going  !  Going  !  Thirty  shillings  !  Going  !  '  '  Ha  !  ha  !  '  I 
laughed — not  loudly,  not  boisterously — it  was  very  deUcately, 
very  neatly  done.  But  the  room  was  electrified.  Some  of  the 
henchmen  were  there  ;  they  grew  rigid,  afraid  to  move,  afraid  to 
glance  my  ^ay  out  of  the  corners  of  their  eyes.  '  Twenty  shiUings, 
Going  ! '  the  auctioneer  would  cry.  '  Ha  !  ha  !  '  I  would  laugh 
and  things  went  for  nothing,  and  the  henchmen  trembled.  Louis 
Fagan  came  across  the  room  to  speak  to  me — Fagan,  representing 
the  British  Museum,  as  it  were,  was  quite  the  most  distinguished 
man  there.  And  now,  having  seen  how  things  were,  I  took 
Fagan's  arm — '  You,'  I  said,  '  may  have  the  honour  of  taking 
me  out.'  " 

He  dined  with  us  the  next  evening  and  found  Jlr.  Harry 
Wilson,  whose  brother-in-law,  Mr.  Sydney  Morse,  had  been 
the  very  friend  upon  whose  arm  WTiistler  had  entered  the 
auction  room.  Mr.  Wilson  was  already  full  of  the  story,  and 
confirmed  the  "  electric  shock  "  to  the  atmosphere  when 
Whistler  appeared  at  the  sale. 

He  ran  over  to  Holland  once  during  the  summer.  Part  of 
the  time  he  was  at  Pourville,  near  Dieppe,  where  he  had 
taken  a  house  for  Miss  Birnie  PhiUp  and  her  mother.  He 
212  [1899 


BETWEEN  LONDON  AND  PARIS 

was  constantly  going  backward  and  forward  to  London  and 
Paris.  The  sea  was  on  the  right  side  at  Dieppe,  at  Madame 
Lefevre's  restaurant  he  could  get  as  good  a  breakfast  as  in 
Paris,  and  many  small  oils  and  water-colours  were  done 
before  the  bad  weather  drove  him  away. 

In  Paris,  during  the  winter  of  1899-1900,  he  took  two  little 
rooms  for  himself  at  the  Hotel  Chatham,  where  the  last 
three  years  he  had  often  stayed.  He  was  afraid  to  risk  the 
dampness  of  the  Rue  du  Bac.  He  had  fewer  friends  in  Paris 
than  in  London,  and  he  was  often  lonely.  He  would  go  to 
see  M.  Drouet,  and  say  to  him,  "  Ttt,  sais,  je  suis  ennuye." 
And  M.  Drouet,  to  amuse  him,  would  get  up  little  dinners, 
at  which  all  who  were  left  of  the  students  of  forty  years  before 
met  again.  One  dinner,  not  long  before  his  death,  was  given 
in  honour  of  Becquet,  whom  he  had  etched.  A  wreath  of 
laurel  was  prepared.  During  dinner  M.  Drouet  said  he  had 
met  many  great  men,  but,  pour  la  morale,  none  greater  than 
Becquet,  who  was  moved  to  tears.  Then  Whistler  said  they 
had  wanted  to  present  him  with  some  little  souvenir,  and  the 
laurel  wreath  was  brought  and  offered  to  him  by  Whistler 
and  Becquet  fairly  broke  down  ;  he  "  would  hang  it  on  the 
walls  of  his  studio,  always  to  have  it  before  him,"  he  said. 

Once,  M.  Drouet  took  Whistler  to  the  fair  at  Neuilly.  made 
him  ride  in  a  merry-go-round.  Whistler  lost  his  hat,  dropped 
his  eyeglass.  "  What  would  London  journalists  say  if  they 
could  see  me  now  ?  "  he  asked.  They  generally  dined  at 
Beauge's,  a  little  restaurant  in  the  Passage  des  Panoramas, 
where  M.  Drouet  and  a  group  of  artists,  literary  men  and 
barristers,  met  in  the  evening.  Whistler  renewed  the  old 
intimacy  with  M.  Oulevey,  whom  he  had  barely  seen  since 
the  early  Paris  days.  Madame  Oulevey's  memories  are, 
above  all,  of  Whistler's  dining  with  them  in  the  Passage  des 
Favorites  at  the  other  end  of  the  Rue  Vaugirard,  when  he 
wore  his  customary  pumps  so  that,  a  storm  coming  up  and 
1900]  213 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

not  a  cab  to  be  found  in  their  remote  quarter,  they  had  to 
keep  him  for  hours.  His  pumps  left  an  impression  on  M. 
Drouet,  too,  who  was  sure  it  was  because  Whistler  wore  them 
by  day  and  could  not  walk  in  them,  that  he  was  so  often  seen 
driving  through  the  streets  in  a  cab.  And  he  seemed  so 
tired  then,  M.  Drouet  said,  half  the  time  lying  back,  fast 
asleep. 

In  February,  the  sad  news  came  to  him  of  the  death  of  his 
brother.  Dr.  Whistler.  The  two  brothers  had  been  devoted 
to  one  another  since  boyhood,  and  ^Vhistler  felt  the  loss 
acutely.  It  made  him  the  more  ready  to  rejoin  his  friends 
in  London,  and  two  months  later  found  him  staying  with 
Mr.  Heinemann,  who  had  moved  from  Whitehall  Court  to 
Norfolk  Street. 

There  E.  dined  to  meet  him  the  evening  after  his  arrival- 
Mr.  Arthur  Sjonons  gives,  in  his  Sttidies  in  Seven  Arts,  his 
impression  of  the  dinner,  and  of  Whistler  : 

"  I  never  saw  any  one  so  feverishly  ahve  as  this  httle,  old  man, 
with  his  bright,  withered  cheeks,  over  which  the  skin  was  drawn 
tightly,  his  darting  eyes,  under  their  prickly  bushes  of  eyebrow, 
his  fantastically  creased  black  and  wliite  curls  of  hair,  his  bitter 
and  subtle  mouth,  and,  above  all,  his  exquisite  hands,  never  at 
rest." 

To  us,  who  knew  Whistler,  the  idea  of  his  age  was  never 
present.  He  always  seemed  the  youngest  in  whatever 
company  he  was.  But  to  those  who  saw  him  for  the  first 
time  the  fact  was  evident  that  he  was  growing  old.  He  had, 
moreover,  been  before  the  public  for  so  long  that  people  got 
an  exaggerated  idea  of  his  age.  Mr.  Symons  continues,  in 
his  recollections  of  that  evening  : 

"  Some  person  officially  connected  with  art  was  there,  an  urbane 

sentimentahst ;  and  after  every  official  platitude  there   was  a 

sharp  crackle  from  Whistler's  corner,  and  it  was  as  if  a  rattlesnake 

had  leapt  suddenly  out." 

214  [1900 


1 
i 


m 


**- 


I  Hi:  -KA,  i'"Li;\iLLE 


ItullIN    lluoll    IIAV 


4 


BETWEEN  LONDON  AND  PARIS 

When  the  "  urbane  sentimentaUst  "  remarked  that 

"  There  never  was  such  a  thing  as  an  art-loving  people,  an 
artistic  period," 

Whistler  said : 

"  Dear  me  !  it's  very  flattering  to  find  that  I  have  made  you 
see  at  last.  But  really,  you  know,  I  shall  have  to  copyright  my 
Uttle  things  after  this  !  " 

When  some  one  objected  to  the  good  manners  of  the  French 
because  they  were  all  on  the  surface.  Whistler  thought, 

"  Well,  you  know,  a  very  good  place  to  have  them." 


1900]  215 


CHAPTER  XLIV.  THE  INTERNATIONAL. 
THE  YEARS  EIGHTEEN  NINETY-SEVEN 
TO    NINETEEN   HUNDRED   AND   THREE 

THE  Exhibition  of  International  Art,  the  original  name  of 
the  International  Society  of  Sculptors,  Painters  and 
Gravers,  was  Whistler's  idea.  He  had  always  hoped  for  a 
gallery  where  he  could  show  his  work  in  his  own  way,  with 
the  work  of  men  in  sympathy  with  him.  Often  and  often, 
he  talked  to  us  of  this.  It  mattered  little  to  him  where  the 
gallery  should  be — in  New  York  or  London,  Paris  or  Beriin  ; 
the  exhibition  should  not  be  local  or  national,  but  an  Art 
Congress  for  the  artists  of  the  world.  This  was  his  aim  from 
the  beginning.  The  men  whom  he  wished  to  have  associated 
with  himself  lived  mostly  in  London,  where  now  the  greater 
part  of  his  time  was  spent,  and  London  seemed  the  place  for 
the  first  exhibition.  He  and  Mr.  E.  A.  Walton  together  tried 
to  get  a  lease  of  the  Grosvenor  Gallery,  and,  when  they  failed 
in  this,  he  turned  to  the  Grafton.  Here  also  there  were 
difficulties,  and  nothing  definite  was  done  until  1897,  when  a 
young  journalist,  who  was  also  a  painter,  Mr.  Francis  Howard, 
conceived  the  idea  of  promoting  a  company  to  hold  an  ex- 
hibition at  Prince's  Skating  Club,  Knightsbridge.  As  the 
artists  were  to  incur  no  financial  responsibilities  and  have 
complete  artistic  control.  Whistler  consented  to  co-operate. 
The  first  meeting  was  on  December  23,  1897,  and  there  were 
present  John  Lavery,  E.  A.  Walton,  G.  Sauter,  and  Francis 
Howard.  Whistler,  who  had  been  consulted,  at  first  agreed 
that  members  of  the  Royal  Academy  and  other  artistic 
2i6  [1897 


THE    INTERNATIONAL 

bodies,  should  be  admitted,  and  at  the  second  meeting, 
February  7,  1898,  Mr.  Alfred  Gilbert,  R.A.,  took  the  chair. 
A  circular,  unsigned  and  undated,  was  then  issued,  and  on  it 
appeared  the  names  of  James  McNeill  Whistler,  Alfred  Gilbert, 
Frederick  Sandys,  John  Lavery,  James  Guthrie,  Arthur 
Melville,  Charles  W.  Furse,  Charles  Ricketts,  C.  Hazlewood 
Shannon,  E.  A.  Walton,  Joseph  Farquharson,  Maurice 
Greiffenhagen,  Will  Rothenstein,  G.  Sauter,  Francis  Howard. 
It  stated,  with  a  clumsiness  Whistler  could  hardly  have  passed 
had  he  seen  the  circular  beforehand,  that  the  object  of 
the  Society  was  the  much-needed  "  organisation  in  London 
of  Exhibitions  of  the  finest  Art  of  the  time  ...  the  non- 
recognition  of  nationality  in  Art,  and  the  hanging  and  placing 
of  works  irrespective  of  such  consideration  .  .  .  The  Ex- 
hibitions, filling  as  they  will  an  unoccupied  place  in  the 
cosmopolitan  ground  of  International  Art,  will  not  be  in 
opposition  to  existing  institutions." 

An  Executive  Council  appointed  itself,  and,  on  February 
16,  1898,  Whistler  was  unanimously  elected  Chairman.  The 
most  distinguished  artists  of  every  nationahty  were  invited 
to  join  an  Honorary  Council.  The  Executive,  to  which  J., 
on  Whistler's  nomination,  was  elected  in  March,  had  entire 
charge  of  the  affairs  of  the  Society.  There  were  to  be  no 
ordinary  members,  but  only  "  honorary "  members  by 
invitation. 

Personal  jealousies,  and  personal  preferences  immediately 
crept  in,  as  they  always  will.  Mr.  Gilbert  resigned,  which 
was  much  to  be  regretted,  and  several  other  English  members 
withdrew  from  the  Council  which  speedily  became  as  inter- 
national as  the  name  of  the  Society  into  which  it  formed 
itself  two  months  later  (April  23),  when  officers  were  elected, 
and,  Whistler  proposed  by  Mr.  Lavery,  and  seconded  by  Mr. 
J.  J.  Shannon,  was  made  President,  with  Mr.  Lavery  as  Vice- 
President,  and  Mr.  Francis  Howard  as  Honorary  Secretary. 
1898]  217 


JAMES  McNeill   whistler 

The  International  was  the  second  society  of  artists  over 
which  ^Vhistler  presided.  Only  ten  years  had  passed  since 
his  resignation  from  the  British  Artists',  but  the  change  in 
his  position  before  the  world  was  great.  The  British  Artists, 
an  old  and  decrepit  body,  had  chosen  him  as  President,  in 
the  hope  that  his  own  notoriety  and  his  follo^^'ing  of 
young  men  would  bring  them  the  advertisement  they  needed  ; 
the  International,  a  new  and  vigorous  organisation,  elected 
him  because  they  knew  that  no  other  artist  could  give  them 
such  distinction.  In  the  'eighties,  ^^^listler  was  still  mis- 
trusted ;  in  the  'nineties,  he  was  universally  acknowledged  as 
one  of  the  few  great  artists  of  the  nineteenth  centurj"^.  The 
change  in  his  own  position  was  not  greater  than  that  which 
his  influence  had  made  in  contemporary  art.  This  influence 
had  been  pointed  out  by  the  few  for  some  years  past.  But 
the  last  decade  had  strengthened  it  until  it  could  be  denied 
by  none.  The  younger  generation  had  been  accepted  in 
the  meanwhile,  and  the  two  groups  of  most  prominence  and 
promise  were  the  first  to  admit  their  debt  to  AMiistler  and  to 
proclaim  it  openly  in  their  work.  The  yoimg  men  of  the 
New  Enghsh  Art  Club  had  seen  in  subject  and  sentiment  a 
temptation  of  the  devil  and  devoted  themselves  to  the  dis- 
covery of  the  "  painter's  poetry  "  in  the  life  about  them, 
and  the  beautj'  of  colour  and  form  wherever  it  might  lurk, 
whether  in  the  London  'bus  transformed  by  the  magic  of  the 
London  atmosphere,  or  in  the  Lion-Comique,  transfigured  in 
the  light  of  the  Music  Hall  stage.  The  young  men  of  the 
Glasgow  School  had  been  pre-occupied  ^vith  decorative  design, 
with  "  pattern,"  with  colour  schemes,  endeavouring  to  make 
an  "  arrangement  "  of  their  every  portrait,  and  in  their 
every  landscape  to  produce  a  "  harmony."  No  doubt, 
study  and  imitation  of  ^^Tiistler  were,  in  some  cases,  pushed 
to  folly.  But  all  that  was  healthiest  and  best  in  the  art  of 
the  country  was  coming  from  these  two  groups,  many  of 
218  [1898 


TlIK  WIDUW 


THE    INTERNATIONAL 

whom  had  estabUshed  an  international  reputation  for  them- 
selves by  the  time  the  new  Society  was  founded.  Even  in 
the  Academy,  anecdote  lost  for  an  interval  its  old  pre- 
eminence, and  it  looked  as  if  Academicians  began  to  under- 
stand that  the  painter's  only  object  was  not  to  tell  a  story. 
A  new  generation  of  critics  had  grown  up  whose  behef  in 
Whistler  was  no  less  than  that  of  the  new  generation  of 
artists,  and  Whistler's  words  and  definitions  became  the 
clicMs  of  the  criticism  of  the  day. 

Nor  was  his  influence  confined  to  England.  From  the 
early  'eighties,  when  the  jury  had  become  more  representative 
at  the  old  Salon,the  pictures  he  sent  to  it  had  been  honoured. 
From  the  early  'nineties,  the  new  Salon  seemed  bent  on  em- 
phasising with  fresh  proofs  its  acceptance  of  him  as  master. 
Other  recent  influences  in  France  had  waxed  and  waned.  The 
realism  of  Bastien-Lepage,  which  sank  into  photography  with 
painters  of  less  accomplishment,  and  the  square  brush-mark 
were  already  vieux  jeu.  Impressionism  had  swamped  itself  in 
chemical  problems  and  the  technique  of  the  Impressionists 
had  been  degraded  to  the  exaggerations  and  absurdities  of 
the  Pointillistes.  Whistler  brought  with  him  technical 
sanity,  a  feeling  for  beauty,  and  reverence  for  fine  tradition, 
and  he,  who  had  been  mistaken  for  the  most  eccentric  of  all 
poseurs  in  paint,  gradually  led  the  way  back  to  dignity  and 
reticence  in  art.  The  effect  of  his  example  was  revealed  in 
the  work  not  only  of  French,  but  of  American  and  other 
artists  of  almost  every  nationality,  either  by  their  frank 
imitation  or  else  by  their  attitude  towards  Nature  and  the 
reserve  of  their  technique.  Because  of  the  universal  recog- 
nition now  accorded  him,  no  one  anywhere  was  better  qualified 
for  the  Presidency  of  an  International  Society  of  artists. 

The  new  post  was  of  much  more  importance  than  the 
Presidency  of  the  British  Artists,  as  Wliistler  realised.  The 
honour  came,  it  is  true,  from  no  official  body.  Officially,  to 
1898]  219 


JAMES   McNeill  whistler 

the  last,  he  was  destined  to  go  without  the  recognition  due 
to  him.  In  France  he  was  but  an  ordinary  Societaire  of  the 
Societe  Nationale  des  Beaux-Arts.  The  National  Academy  of 
Design  in  America  was  as  indifferent  to  him  as  the  Rojal 
Academy  in  England.  His  membership  in  the  Academies  of 
Dresden,  Munich,  Rome  and  Scotland  was  a  mere  compliment 
— a  compUment  he  could  and  always  did  appreciate — but  it 
carried  no  intimate  relations  and  no  responsibilities  with  it, 
and  required  of  him  no  active  work.  The  new  Society,  if 
not  official,  consisted  in  its  Executive  of  most  of  the  strongest 
"  outsiders  "  in  England,  and  had  the  support  of  the  most 
distinguished  men  of  his  profession  throughout  the  world. 
Their  choice  of  him  was  not  more  an  acknowledgment  of  his 
supremacy  as  artist  than  an  expression  of  confidence  in 
him  as  leader,  and  he  took  no  less  pleasure  in  their  tribute 
than  trouble  not  to  disappoint  their  expectations.  His 
interest  was  practical  until  the  last.  His  experience  with 
the  British  Artists  was  a  help  in  constituting  the  Society. 
The  sole,  authority  rested  with  the  Executive  Council  the 
members  of  which  elected  themselves  and  could  not  be  got 
rid  of  except  by  their  voluntary  resignation  or  expulsion. 
Theoretically,  the  idea  was  magnificent,  if  the  narrowest  and 
most  autocratic  conceivable.  "  Napoleon  and  I  do  these 
things,"  we  have  heard  WTiistler  say,  and  the  disaster  at 
Suffolk  Street  had  taught  him  that  an  intelligent  autocrat 
is  the  best  leader  possible.  His  policy,  however,  if  autocratic, 
was  broad.  In  most  societies,  painting  held  a  monopoly, 
but,  in  his,  sculpture  was  to  be  relegated  to  no  second  place 
and  black-and-white,  or  "  Graving  "  he  called  it,  was  to  be 
treated  as  the  equal  of  both  as  it  never  had  been  before.  All 
his  rules  and  regulations  were  as  sane  and  practical,  and  if 
weakness  creeps,  or  has  crept,  into  the  Society,  it  must 
come  from  disregard  of  them. 

The  first  exhibition  was  opened  in  May  1898.      The  Skating 
220  [1898 


II IE  LITTLE  BLUE  BONNET 
Blue  mid  (,'urtil 


^ 


THE    INTERNATIONAL 

Rink  at  Knightsbridge  was  divided  into  three  large  and  two 
small  galleries.  Whistler's  scheme  of  decoration,  for  in  this 
particular  he  carried  on  the  methods  adopted  in  his  own 
shows  and  at  Suffolk  Street,  was  one  hitherto  never  attempted 
in  a  large  English  exhibition,  and  the  hanging  was  more 
perfect  than  any  seen  up  to  that  time  even  on  the  Continent. 
The  President's  velarium,  now  without  question  of  patent, 
was  used,  and  he  designed  the  seal  for  the  Society.  The 
artistic  success  of  the  show  could  not  be  questioned.  No 
such  collection  of  modern  art  had  ever  before  been  made  in 
London,  and  it  was  a  proof  that  Whistler,  in  reality,  was  as 
liberal  in  matters  of  art  as  he  was  narrow  and  prejudiced  in 
the  popular  conception  of  him.  In  one  of  the  many  often- 
repeated  stories  about  him,  when  he  was  told  that  he  and 
Velasquez  were  the  only  two  painters  in  the  world,  he  is 
reported  to  have  said,  "  Why  drag  in  Velasquez  ?  "  At  the 
International  he  "  dragged  in  "  all  the  artists  all  over  the 
world  who  were  doing  the  best,  or  the  most  individual  work. 
Von  Uhde,  Manet,  Degas,  Cecilia  Beaux,  Segantini,  Blanche, 
Lavery,  Thaulow,  Zorn,  Thoma,  Liebermann,  Walton, 
Guthrie,  Nicholson,  Muhrman,  Monet,  Khnopff,  Sauter, 
Van  Toroop,  Aman-Jean,  Fantin-Latour,  Stuck,  Renoir, 
Puvis  de  Chavannes,  Alexander,  Fragiacomo,  McClure, 
Hamilton,  Maris,  were  a  few  of  the  painters.  Whistler 
exerted  himself  to  arrange  a  group  of  his  own  work  worthy 
of  the  President,  sending  several  earlier  pictures,  At  the  Piano, 
La  Princesse  du  Pays  de  la  Porcelaine,  Rosa  Corder,  among 
them,  and  two  or  three  of  the  latest.  The  Philosopher,  The 
Little  Blue  Bonnet,  his  own  portrait.  The  sculpture  was  as 
interesting  as  the  painting,  Rodin,  St.  Gaudens,  MacMonnies 
and  Meunier  exhibiting.  And  drawings  and  engravings  were 
for  the  first  time  properly  presented,  as  they  deserved  to  be, 
Wliistler,  Renouard,  Vuillard,  Vallotton,  C.  H.  Shannon, 
Klinger,  Forain,  Lautrec,  Pennell,  Lunois,  Koepping,  Boldini, 

1 898]  221 


JAMES   McNeill   whistler 

Besnard,  Carriere,  Bauer,  Lepere,  Pissarro,  Vierge,  Steinlen, 
all  contributing,  and  space  being  made  for  a  large  number 
of  drawings  by  Beardsley,  who  had  died  but  recently. 
Before  the  show  was  over,  delegates  were  sent,  and  com- 
munications received,  from  Paris  and  Venice,  asking  for  an 
exchange  of  exhibitions. 

Whistler  came  from  Paris  for  the  opening,  a  quiet  affair,  as 
the  endeavour  to  obtain  the  presence  of  the  Prince  of  Wales 
was  unsuccessful,  and  lunched  with  the  Council  on  the 
opening  day,  and  attended  one  or  two  Sunday  afternoon 
receptions.  If  he  did  not  inaugurate  it,  he  thoroughly  agreed 
with  the  scheme  of  a  fine  illustrated  catalogue,  which  was 
published  by  Mr.  Heinemann,  with  The  Little  Blue  Bonnet, 
in  photogravure,  as  frontispiece. 

Whistler  soon  realised  that  it  was  utterly  impossible  for  a 
man  to  serve  actively  in  two  rival  societies  ;  he  had  said  as 
much  when  he  was  trying  to  instil  new  life  into  the  British 
Artists  ;  and  he  now  determined  that  members  of  the  Council 
of  the  International  who  were  members  of  other  societies 
must  leave  the  Society,  or,  if  not,  he  would.  His  decision 
was  precipitated  by  a  new  election  to  the  Council.  He  was 
in  Paris  at  the  time,  and  the  fact  that  two  members  of  the 
Council  left  London  at  almost  an  hour's  notice  for  the  Rue  du 
Bac  to  arrange  matters  with  him,  shows  how  completely  and 
actively  he  identified  himself  with  the  affairs  of  the  Society. 
The  whole  episode  is  typical.  They  arrived  early  in  the 
morning.  He  was  not  up,  but  sent  word  that  they  must 
breakfast  with  him  in  the  studio.  During  breakfast  he  talked 
of  everything  but  the  Society  ;  after  breakfast  he  made  them 
listen  to  a  Fourth  of  July  spread-eagle  oration  squeaked  out  of 
a  primitive  gramophone  somebody  had  presented  him  with, 
to  his  enduring  amusement ;  and  not  until  the  last  twenty 
minutes  before  they  had  to  start  on  their  return,  would  he 
refer  to  the  deadlock  in  the  Council.     Then  he  had  aU  his 

222  [1898 


THE    INTERNATIONAL 

plans  ready  and  stated  just  what  he  proposed  to  do,  just  what 
he  wanted  done,  just  what  must  be  done — just,  we  might  add, 
what  was  done.  And  not  merely  at  every  crisis,  but  in  every 
detail,  it  was  the  same.  Once,  some  years  before,  in  speaking 
of  another  independent  society,  he  said,  "  Ah,  the  New 
English  Art  Club — it's  only  a  raft  !  "  But  the  International 
he  called  "  a  fighting  ship,"  of  which  he,  as  Captain,  had 
taken  command.  He  was  not  President  in  name  alone.  He 
directed  the  management  of  the  Society,  no  measure  could 
be  taken  until  it  had  been  submitted  to  him  and  approved  by 
him.  He  expected  the  deference  the  position  entitled  him 
to  ;  in  return,  he  gave  the  practical  aid  not  always  to  be  had 
from  a  President.  And  so  it  always  was.  Even  during  his  last 
illness,  nothing  was  done  without  his  knowledge  and  sanction. 
The  second  International  Exhibition,  or  "  Art  Congress," 
was  held  also  at  Knightsbridge  from  May  to  July  1899.  The 
President  came  over,  when  the  hanging  was  finished.  It  was 
arranged  this  year  that  a  special  show  of  his  etchings  should 
be  made,  and  a  small  room,  decorated  for  the  purpose,  was 
called  the  White  Room.  As  Whistler  was  in  Paris,  J.  and 
Mrs.  Whibley  were  deputed  to  go  to  the  studio  and  select  the 
prints.  J.  chose  a  number  that  had  not  been  seen  before, 
principally  from  the  Naval  Review  Series.  Whistler,  for 
some  reason,  resented  the  selection  when  first  he  saw  the 
prints  on  the  walls  in  the  special  room  reserved  for  them. 
The  Committee  were  in  consternation  and  sent  for  J.  Whistler 
said  to  him, 

"  Now  look  what  you  have  done  ! " 

"  But  what  have  I  done  ?     Have  I  done  you  any  harm  ?  " 

And  that  was  the  end  of  it.  His  objection  may  have  been 
because  he  feared,  as  we  remember  his  saying  of  these  prints 
another  time,  that  they  were  "  beyond  the  understanding  of 
the  abomination  outside."  But  his  fury  lasted  only  for  the 
1899]  223 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

moment,  and  he  and  J.  and  Lavery  passed  a  good  part  of 
that  night  at  work  in  the  gallon'  on  the  catalogue. 

WTiistler  received  on  the  opening  day,  and  in  the  evening 
the  first  of  the  Round  Table  Coimcil  dinners  was  held  at  the 
Cafe  Royal,  Sir  James  Guthrie  presiding.  In  an  admirable 
speech  he  expressed  not  only  the  delight  of  the  Council  at 
being  able  to  enhst  the  s\Tnpathy  and  aid  of  ^Miistler,  but 
their  love  and  appreciation  for  the  man  and  his  work.  The 
s}Tnpathy  and  co-operation  then  existing  between  the  Presi- 
dent and  most  of  the  Council  was  genuine,  and  he  appreciated 
it  quite  as  much  as  they  did.  After  dinner,  a  few  of  the 
Comicil  went  on  with  him  to  Mr.  Lavery's,  where  he  was 
staying,  and  there  he  read  the  Baronet  and  ihe  Butterfly,  which 
had  just  appeared  in  Paris.  This,  because  of  absence  or  ill- 
health,  was  the  only  Council  dinner  he  went  to,  though  several 
have  been  since  held,  at  which  M.  Rodin  has  presided. 

Chase,  Menard,  Baertson,  Gandara,  Kroyer,  Melchers, 
Cottet,  Klint,  Mancini,  Simon,  were  among  the  painters 
hitherto  not  known  in  England,  who  were  seen  at  the  second 
show,  while  Mrs.  Clifford  Addams  (Miss  Bate),  "  massiere  of 
the  Academie  Carmen,  Eleve  de  Whistler,''  showed  for  the  first 
time  Etude  de  la  Semaine.  The  President  exhibited  several 
of  the  small  canvases  he  had  recently  finished.  There  was 
sculpture  by  Dubois,  Dillens  and  Rodin,  and  drawings  by 
Alfred  Stevens,  Menzel,  Rops,  Legros,  Timothy  Cole,  Mil- 
cendeau,  Sullivan,  Kroyer,  Grasset,  H.  Wilson.  Three  illus- 
trated catalogues  of  this  exhibition  were  published  by  Messrs. 
W.  H.  Ward  and  Company.  WTiistler's  Chelsea  Rags  and 
Trouville  were  both  included  in  the  ordinary  editions,  and 
the  Little  Lady  Sophie  of  Soho  and  Lillie  in  our  Alley  were 
added  to  the  edition  de  luxe.  The  exhibition  was  even  less  of 
a  success  financially  than  the  first  and  the  Society  of  artists 
came  near  being  involved  in  the  crash  which  overtook  the 
financing  company.  To  avoid  anj'  comphcations,  \Miistler 
224  [1899 


1 


I.A  I'lUXCESSE  DU  PAYS  DK  LA  I'OUCKLAINE 


THE    INTERNATIONAL 

insisted   that  he   should   have   an   Honorary   Solicitor  and 
Treasurer,  and  Mr.  William  Webb  was  appointed. 

In  both  exhibitions  attempts  to  attract  the  public  with 
music  and  receptions  and  entertainments  were  made,  but 
Whistler  strongly  objected  to  music,  saying  that  the  two  arts 
should  be  kept  quite  separate,  as  people  who  came  to  hear 
the  music  could  not  see  the  pictures,  and  people  who  came  to 
see  the  pictures  would  not  want  to  hear  the  music.  There 
were  also  serious  misunderstandings  with  the  proprietor  and 
the  promoters,  the  former  wishing  to  see  some  of  his  friends 
represented,  and  the  latter  to  see  some  of  their  money  back, 
and  the  outlook  was  rather  gloomy. 

No  show  was  held  in  1900,  the  Paris  Universal  Exhibition 
taking  up  most  of  the  members'  energy,  and  it  was  not  imtil 
the  autumn  of  1901  that  the  third  exhibition  was  opened  at 
the  Galleries  of  the  Royal  Institute  in  Piccadilly.  There  had 
been  official  and  other  changes.  Mr.  Sauter  had  been  made 
Honorary  Secretary  fro  tern.,  and  the  Society  which  up  till 
now  had  consisted  of  the  Council  only,  admitted  Associates, 
and  with  their  election  the  International  character  began  to 
wane,  for,  out  of  thirty-two  Associates  elected,  twenty-eight 
were  resident  in  Great  Britain.  The  third  show  resulted  in 
no  financial  loss,  and  several  new  men  were  hung — Morrice, 
Anglada,  Israels,  Harpignies,  Wittsen,  Claus,  Le  Sidaner, 
Van  Bartels,  Buysse.  The  President  sent  seven  small  paintings 
and  pastels.  Of  these  Phryne  the  Superb  was  reproduced 
in  the  catalogue,  as  well  as  Gold  and  Orange — The  Neighbours, 
and  Green  and  Silver — The  Great  Sea.  Mr.  Addams,  Whistler's 
second  apprentice,  exhibited  with  his  wife. 

Mr.  Sauter  devoted  himself  to  furthering  the  International 
idea  of  the  President,  and,  under  his  Secretaryship,  the 
International  Society  held  exhibitions  of  its  English  members' 
work  in  Budapest,  Munich,  and  Diisseldorf,  and  afterwards 
in  Philadelphia,  Pittsburgh,  Chicago,  and  St.  Louis.  On 
1901]  u:p  225 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

June  11,  1903,  Mr.  Sauter  was  relieved  temporarily  of  the 
Secretaryship,  and  J.  took  his  place.  Within  a  few  weeks 
he  had  the  painful  duty  to  call  a  meeting  to  announce  to 
the  Society  the  loss  they  had  sustained  by  the  death  of 
their  President. 

Nevertheless,  the  Council  determined  to  follow  the  traditions 
of  Whistler,  and  to  honour  his  memory  as  well  as  they  could. 
Not  only  were  the  American  exhibitions  carried  out,  but 
the  Society  organised  a  show  of  British  Art  in  Diisseldorf, 
and  at  once  made  arrangements  for  a  Memorial  Exhibition 
of  the  President's  works  in  London.  In  the  autumn  of  1903, 
M.  Rodin  accepted  the  Presidency  of  the  Society,  and  the 
fourth  exhibition,  the  first  held  in  the  New  Gallery,  was 
opened  in  January  1904,  in  which  the  late  President  was 
represented  by  the  Symphony  in  Whiie,  No.  Ill,  lent  by  Mr. 
Edmund  Davis ;  Rose  and  Gold — The  Tulip,  lent  by  Miss 
Birnie  Philip ;  Valparaiso,  lent  by  Mr.  Graham  Robertson ; 
Symphony  in  Grey — Battersea,  lent  by  Mrs.  Armitage  ;  and 
Study  jar  a  Fan,  lent  by  Mr.  C.  H.  Shannon. 

This  exhibition  was  followed  in  1905  by  the  most  important 
and  successful  show  in  the  career  of  the  International  Society 
of  Sculptors,  Painters,  and  Gravers — the  Memorial  Exhibition 
of  the  works  of  James  McNeill  ^^^listler.  For  complete 
success  it  lacked  only  the  co-operation  of  Whistler's  executrix, 
which  the  Council  originally  understood  was  promised  but 
which  was  ultimately  ^^^thheld.  There  can  be  no  doubt, 
however,  that  it  was  by  far  the  most  important  and  rep- 
resentative exhibition  of  his  works  ever  given,  superior  from 
every  point  of  view  to  the  small  exhibition  at  the  Scottish 
Academy,  in  many  respects  to  the  Boston  show,  and  also  to 
the  Paris  Memorial  Exhibition  which  was  altogether  dis- 
appointing. The  Exhibition  at  the  New  Gallery  contained, 
as  can  be  seen  from  its  elaborate  catalogue,  more  especially 
the  beautifully  illustrated  Mition  de  luxe  published  by  Mr. 
226  [1903 


THE    INTERNATIONAL 

Heinemann,  nearly  all  the  principal  oil-paintings,  the  most 
complete  collection  of  etchings  ever  got  together,  the  complete 
series  of  lithographs  and  innumerable  pastels,  water-colours 
and  drawings. 


1903] 


227 


CHAPTER  XI.V.  THE  ACADEJNHE  CAR- 
MEN. THE  YEARS  EIGHTEEN  NINETY- 
EIGHT  TO  NINETEEN  HUNDRED  AND 
ONE 

IN  the  autumn  of  1898,  a  circular  appeared  in  Paris,  which 
created  a  sensation  in  the  studios.  Copies  came  to 
London  and  were  received  in  New  York,  \\liistler  was 
going  to  open  a  school,  the  Academic  Whistler.  The  announce- 
ment was  made  by  his  model,  Madame  Carmen  Rossi.  We 
have  never  seen  the  circular,  but  ^^^listler  at  once  wrote  from 
Whitehall  Court,  where  he  was  staying  (October  1,  1898), 
to  the  papers  in  Paris  and  London, 

"  to  correct  an  erroneous  statement,  or  rather  to  modify  an 
exaggeration,  that  an  other^vise  bo7ia  fide  prospectus  is  circulating 
in  Paris.  An  atelier  is  to  be  opened  in  the  Passage  Stanislas,  and, 
in  company  with  my  friend,  the  distinguished  sculptor,  Mr. 
MacMonnies,  I  have  promised  to  attend  its  classes.  The  patronne 
has  issued  a  document  in  which  this  new  Arcadia  is  described  as 
the  Academic  Whistler  and  further  quahfied  as  the  Anglo-American 
School.  I  would  like  it  to  be  understood  that,  having  hitherto 
abstained  from  all  plot  of  instruction,  this  is  no  sudden  assertion 
in  the  Ville  Lumiere  of  my  o^^ti.  Xor  could  I  be  in  any  way 
responsible  for  the  proposed  mysterious  irruption  in  Paris  of 
whatever  Anglo-American  portends.  '  American,'  I  take  it,  is 
synonymous  with  modesty,  and  '  Anglo,'  in  art,  I  am  unable  to 
grasp  at  all,  otherwise  than  as  suggestive  of  complete  innocence 
and  the  blank  of  Burlington  House.  I  purpose  only,  then,  to 
visit,  as  harmlessly  as  may  be,  in  tvu'n  vith  Mr.  MacMonnies,  the 
new  academy,  which  has  my  best  vishes,  and,  if  no  other  good 
come  of  it,  at  least  to  rigorously  carry  out  mj'  promise  of  never 
appearing  anywhere  else." 
228  [1S98 


THE    ACADEMIE   CARMEN 

Whistler  said  also  that  he  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
financial  management  of  the  school,  everything  with  the 
system  of  teaching,  and  that  he  proposed  to  offer  the  students 
his  knowledge  of  a  lifetime. 

The  Passage  Stanislas  is  a  small  street,  running  off  the 
Rue  Notre-Damc-des-Champs,  in  which  some  very  well- 
known  artists  have,  or  have  had,  their  studios.  No.  6  was 
a  house  with  two  storeys,  and  a  courtyard  or  garden  at  the 
back,  which  was  afterwards  covered  with  glass.  Over  the 
front  door,  we  are  told,  the  sign  Academie  Whistler  did  appear, 
but  only  for  a  short  time.  The  glazed  courtyard  became 
a  studio,  and  there  was  another  above,  to  which  a  fine  old 
staircase  led.  The  house  had  been  built,  or  adapted,  as  a 
studio,  and,  except  that  the  walls  were  distempered,  no 
change  was  made.  The  rooms  were  fitted  up  with  school 
furniture  :  easels,  stools  and  chairs.  For  this,  we  believe. 
Whistler  advanced  the  money.  But  there  was  little  risk. 
Within  a  few  days,  a  vast  number  of  pupils  had  put  their 
names  down,  and  expressed  their  intention  of  deserting  the 
ateliers  of  Paris,  some  left  the  Slade  and  other  English  schools, 
and  still  others  came  from  Germany  and  America.  ^\'Tlistler 
was  delighted,  and  he  told  us  he  had  heard  that  other  ateliers 
were  emptying,  students  coming  in  squads  from  every^vhere, 
that  the  Passage  was  crowded,  and  that  owners  of  carriages 
sti-uggled  with  rapins  and  prize-winners  to  get  in. 

Miss  Inez  Bate  (Mrs.  Clifford  Addams),  who  was  among 
the  earliest  to  put  down  her  name  though  she  was  not  in 
Paris  at  the  moment,  who  remained  in  the  school  throughout 
its  whole  existence,  and  who  became  Whistler's  apprentice, 
has  not  only  told  us  the  storj^^  of  the  Academie  Carmen,  but  has 
given  to  us,  to  use  in  this  book,  her  record  of  it  and  of  Whistler's 
methods  of  teaching,  written  at  his  request  and  partially 
corrected  by  him.  It  is  really  the  record  of  his  "  knowledge 
of  a  lifetime  "  for  he  taught  in  the  school  the  truths  he  had 
iHys]  1229 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

been  years  in  developing  and  formulating  for  himself.  Miss 
Bate  says  that  Whistler  being  in  London,  did  not  attend  the 
first  week,  to  the  great  disappointment  of  the  pupils.  But 
he  came  over  in  the  second  or  third.  At  the  school,  as  always, 
he  insisted  on  seriousness  in  work.  It  was  not  to  be  like 
other  schools  ;  instead  of  singing,  there  was  to  be  no  talking  ; 
smoking  was  not  to  be  allowed  ;  the  walls  were  not  to  be 
decorated  with  charcoal ;  the  usual  "  studio  cackle  "  was 
forbidden  ;  if  people  wanted  these  things,  thej'  could  go 
back  from  whence  they  had  come.  He  was  to  be  received 
as  a  master  visiting  his  pupils,  not  as  the  good  fellow  in  his 
shirt-sleeves.  Certainly,  for  the  first  weeks,  things  did  not 
go  very  well.  "  Carmen  "  was  not  used  to  her  post,  the 
students  were  not  used  to  such  a  master,  and  Whistler  was 
not  used  to  them.  A  massier  was  appointed,  and  the  men 
and  women,  who  had  been  working  together,  were  separated, 
and  two  classes  were  formed.  Within  a  very  short  time. 
Miss  Bate  was  chosen  massiere,  a  position  she  held  until  the 
school  closed.     She  AATites  in  her  record  : 

"  The  ateliers,  under  the  direction  of  Madame  Carmen  Rossi, 
were  thrown  open  and  the  Acadimie  began  its  somewhat  disturbed 
career  in  the  fall  of  1898.  Students  hastened  from  all  parts, 
hearing  the  confirmation  of  Mr.  Whistler's  rumoured  intention  to 
teach — a  letter  was  received  from  him  announcing  that  he  would 
shortly  appear- — and,  on  the  day  appointed,  the  Acadimie  Carmen 
had  the  honour  of  receiving  him  for  the  first  time.  He  proceeded 
to  look  at  the  various  studies,  most^carefully  noting  imder  whose 
teaching  and  in  what  school  each  student's  former  studies  had 
been  pursued. 

"  Jlost  kindly  something  was  said  to  each,  and  to  one  student 
who  offered  apology  for  his  drawing.'iVIr.  Whistler  said  simply,  '  It 
is  unnecessary — I  really  come  to  learn — feehng  you  are  all  much 
cleverer  than  I.' 

"  Mr.  Whistler,  before  he  left,  expressed  to  the  Patronne  liia 

wish  that  there  should   be  separate  ateliers  for  the  Ladies  and 

Gentlemen,  and  that  the  present  habit  of  both  working  together 

should  be  immediately  discontinued. 

230  []«98 


THE    ACADEMIE    CARMEN 

"  His  second  visit  took  place  on  the  following  Friday,  and  was 
spent  in  consideration  of  the  more  advanced  students.  One,  whose 
study  sufiFered  from  the  introduction  of  an  unbeautiful  object  in 
the  background,  because  it  liappened  to  be  there,  was  told  that, 
'  One's  study,  even  the  most  unpretentious,  is  always  one's  picture, 
and  must  be,  in  form  and  arrangement,  a  perfect  harmony  from 
the  beginning.'  With  this  unheard-of  advice.  Mi'.  Whistler 
turned  to  the  students,  whose  work  he  had  been  inspecting,  and 
intimated  that  they  might  begin  to  paint,  and  so  really  learn  to 
draw,  telling  them  that  the  true  understanding  of  drawing  the 
figure  comes  by  having  learned  to  appreciate  the  subtle  modeUings 
by  the  use  of  the  infinite  gradation  that  paint  makes  possible. 

"  A  third  visit,  and  a  memorable  one,  took  place  on  the  following 
Wednesday. 

"  He  turned  to  one  student,  and  picked  up  her  palette,  pointing 
out  that  being  the  instrument  on  which  the  painter  plays  his 
harmony,  it  must  be  beautiful  always,  as  the  tenderly  cared-for 
viohn  of  the  great  musician  is  kept  in  condition  worthy  of  his 
music. 

"  Before  passing  on,  he  suggested  that  it  would  be  a  pleasure  to 
him  to  show  them  his  way  of  painting,  and  if  this  student  could, 
without  too  much  difficulty,  clean  her  palette,  he  would  endeavour, 
before  his  present  visit  ended,  to  show  them  '  the  easiest  way  of 
getting  into  difficulties  !  ' 

"  And  it  was  then  that  Mr.  Wliistler's  own  palette  was  gener- 
ously given,  for  upon  the  one  presented  to  him  he  made  careful 
preparation  in  his  own  manner,  sending  for  simple  colours  and 
placing  them  in  liis  scientific  and  harmonious  arrangement. 

"  Mr.  Whistler's  whole  system  lies  in  the  complete  mastery  of  the 
palette — that  is  to  say,  on  the  palette  the  work  must  be  done  and 
the  truth  obtained,  before  transferring  one  note  on  to  the  canvas. 

"  He  usually  recommended  the  small  oval  palettes  as  being 
easy  to  hold  and  place  his  arrangement  of  colour  upon.  White 
was  then  placed  at  the  top  edge  in  the  centre,  in  generous  quantity, 
and  to  the  left  came  in  succession  :  yellow  ochre,  raw  Sienna,  raw 
umber,  cobalt,  and  mineral  blue,  while  to  right :  vermilion, 
Venetian  red,  Indian  red,  and  black.  Sometimes  the  burnt 
Sienna  would  be  placed  between  the  Venetian  and  Indian  red,  if 
the  harmony  to  be  painted  seemed  to  desire  this  arrangement,  but 
generally  the  former  placing  of  colours  was  insisted  upon. 

"  A  mass  of  colour,  giving  the  fairest  tone  of  the  flesh,  would 
1898]  231 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

then  be  mixed  and  laid  in  the  centre  of  the  palette  near  the  top, 
and  a  broad  band  of  black  curving  do\\'nward  from  this  mass  of 
light  flesh  note  to  the  bottom,  gave  the  greatest  depth  possible  in 
any  shadow  ;  and  so,  between  the  prepared  light  and  the  black, 
the  colour  was  spread,  and  mingled  with  any  of  the  various  pure 
colours  necessary  to  obtain  the  desired  changes  of  not«,  until  there 
appeared  on  the  palette  a  tone  picture  of  the  figure  that  was  to  be 
painted— and  at  the  same  time  a  preparation  for  the  background 
was  made  on  the  left  in  equally  careful  manner. 

"  Many  brushes  were  used,  each  one  containing  a  full  quantity 
of  every  dominant  note,  so  that  when  the  palette  presented  as  near 
a  reproduction  of  the  model  and  background  as  the  worker  could 
obtain,  the  colour  could  be  put  down  with  a  generous  flowing  brush. 

"  ]VIr.  WTiistler  also  said,  '  I  do  not  interfere  with  your  individu- 
ality.— I  place  in  your  hands  a  sure  means  of  expressing  it,  if  you 
can  learn  to  understand,  and  if  you  have  your  own  sight  of  Nature 
still.'  Each  student  prepared  his  or  her  palette  to  suit  individual 
taste — in  some  the  mass  of  light  would  exceed  the  dark  ;  in  others, 
the  reverse  would  be  the  case.  Mr.  AA'histler  made  no  comments 
on  these  conditions  of  the  students'  palettes  : — '  I  do  not  teach  Art ; 
with  that  I  cannot  interfere ;  but  I  teach  the  scientific  appUcation 
of  paint  and  brushes.'  His  one  insistence  was,  that  no  painting 
on  the  canvas  should  be  begun  until  the  student  felt  he  could  go 
no  further  on  the  palette  ;  the  various  and  harmonious  collection 
of  notes  were  to  represent,  as  nearly  as  he  could  see,  the  model  and 
background  that  he  was  to  paint. 

"  Mr.  ViTiistler  v.ould  often  refrain  from  looking  at  the 
students'  canvas  at  all,  but  would  carefully  examine  the  palette, 
saying  that  there  he  could  see  the  progress  being  made,  and  that 
it  was  really  much  more  important  that  it  should  present  a 
beautiful  appearance,  than  that  the  canvas  should  be  fine  and  the 
palette  inliarmonious.  He  said,  '  If  you  cannot  manage  your 
palette,  how  are  you  going  to  manage  your  canvas  ?  ' 

"  These  statements  sounded  like  a  heresy  to  the  majority  of  the 
students,  and  they  refused  to  believe  the  reason  and  purpose  of 
such  teaching,  and  as  they  had  never  before  even  received  a  hint 
to  consider  the  palette  of  primary'  importance,  they  insisted  in 
believing  that  this  was  but  a  pecuharity  of  Mr.  \\Tiistler's  own 
manner  of  working,  and  that,  to  adopt  it,  would  be  with  fatal 
results  ! 

"  The  careful  attempt  to  follow  the  subtle  modellings  of  flesh 
232  [189S 


THE    ACADEMIE    CARMEN 

placed  in  a  quiet,  simple  light,  and  therefore  extremely  grey  and 
intricate  in  its  change  of  form,  brought  about,  necessarily,  in  the 
commencement  of  each  student's  endeavour,  a  rather  low-toned 
result.  One  student  said  to  Mr.  Wliistler  that  she  did  not  wish  to 
paint  in  such  low  tones,  but  wanted  to  keep  her  colour  pure  and 
brilliant ;  he  answered,  '  then  keep  it  in  the  tubes,  it  is  your  only 
chance,  at  first.' 

"  It  was  taught  to  look  upon  the  model  as  a  sculptor  would, 
using  the  paint  as  a  modeller  does  his  clay  ;  to  create  on  the  canvas 
a  statue,  using  the  brush  as  a  sculptor  his  chisel,  following  care- 
fully each  change  of  note,  which  means  '  form  ; '  it  being  preferable 
that  the  figure  sliould  be  presented  in  a  simple  manner,  without  an 
attempt  to  obtain  the  thousand  changes  of  colour  that  are  there 
in  reality,  and  make  it,  first  of  all,  really  and  truly  exist  in  its 
proper  atmosphere,  than  that  it  should  present  a  brightly  coloured 
image,  pleasing  to  the  eye,  but  without  solidity  and  non-existent 
on  any  real  plane.  This  it  will  be  seen  was  the  reason  of  Mr. 
Whistler's  repeated  and  insistent  commands  to  give  the  back- 
ground the  moat  complete  attention,  believing  that  by  it  alone  the 
figure  had  a  reason  to  exist. 

"  In  the  same  way,  or  rather  in  insistence  of  the  same  im- 
portant principles,  he  pointed  out  the  value  of  the  absolutely  true 
notes  in  the  shadow,  for  they  determine  the  amount  of  light  in  the 
figure,  and  therefore  its  correct  drawing  as  perceived  by  the  eye, 
and  he  said  that  '  in  the  painting  of  depth  is  really  seen  the 
painter's  power.' 

"  Mr.  Wliistler  woxild  often  paint  for  the  students. 

"  Once  he  modelled  a  figure,  standing  in  the  full,  clear  light 
of  the  atelier,  against  a  dull,  rose-coloured  wall.  After  spending 
almost  an  hour  upon  the  palette,  he  put  down  with  swift,  sure 
touches,  the  notes  of  which  his  brushes  were  already  generously 
filled,  so  subtle  that  those  standing  close  to  the  canvas  saw 
apparently  no  difference  in  each  successive  note  as  it  was  put  down, 
but  those  standing  at  the  proper  distance  away  noticed  the  general 
turn  of  the  body  appear,  and  the  faint  subtle  modellings  take  their 
place,  and  finally,  when  the  last  delicate  touch  of  light  was  laid  on, 
the  figure  was  seen  to  exist  in  its  proper  atmosphere  and  at  its 
proper  distance  within  the  canvas,  modelled,  aa  Mr.  Wliistler 
said,  '  in  painter's  clay,'  and  ready  to  be  taken  up  the  next  day 
and  carried  yet  further  in  delicacy,  and  the  next  daj'  further  still, 
and  so  on  until  the  end. 
1898]  333 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

"  And  it  was  insisted  upon  that  it  was  as  important  to  train 
the  eye  as  the  hand,  tliat  long  accustoming  oneself  to  seeing 
crude  notes  in  Nature,  spots  of  red,  blue,  and  yellow  in  flesh  where 
they  are  not,  had  harmed  the  eye,  and  the  training  to  readjust  the 
real,  quiet,  subtle  note  of  Nature  required  long  and  patient  study. 

"  '  To  find  the  true  note  is  the  difficulty,'  was  taught ;  '  it  is 
comparatively  easy  to  employ  it  when  found.' 

"  He  once  said  that  if  he  had  been  given  at  the  commencement 
of  his  artistic  career  what  he  was  then  offering,  that  his  work 
would  have  been  diSerent.  But  that  he  found  in  his  youth  no 
absolute  definite  facts,  and  that  he  '  fell  in  a  pit  and  floundered,' 
and  from  this  he  desired  to  save  whom  he  could.  '  All  is  so 
simple,'  he  would  say,  '  it  is  based  on  proved  scientific  facts ; 
foUow  this  teaching  and  you  must  learn  to  paint ;  not  necessarily 
learn  art,  but,  at  lesist,  absolutely  learn  to  paint  what  you  see.' 

"  It  will  be  readily  understood  that  he  had  no  desire  to  have 
the  ordinary  '  roller  through  Paris  '  in  his  Acadimie,  and  so  came 
about  the  rather  stringent  rules  which  caused  much  discussion  and 
dissension. 

"  He  also  demanded  the  student  to  abandon  all  former  methods 
of  teaching,  unless  in  harmony  with  his  own,  and  to  approach  the 
science  as  taught  by  himself  in  a  simple  and  trustful  manner. 

"  Mr.  Whistler  once  said  to  the  students  that '  there  is  one  word 
that  could  never  come  to  one's  lips  in  the  Salon  Carre  of  the 
Louvre  :  How  clever  ! — How  magnificent  !  how  beautiful !  yes, 
but  clever  never  !  '  And  the  student  used  to  having  any  httle 
sketch  praised,  and  finding  such  efforts  remained  unnoticed  by  Mr. 
\ATiistler,  wliile  an  intelligent  and  careful,  though  to  their  eyes 
stupid,  attempt  to  model  in  simple  form  and  colour,  would  receive 
approbation,  grew  irritated,  and  the  majority  left  for  a  more 
congenial  atmosphere. 

"  It  was  pointed  out  that  a  child,  in  the  simple  innocence  of 
infancy,  painting  the  red  coat  of  tlie  toy  soldier  red  indeed,  is  in 
reahty  nearer  the  great  truth,  than  the  most  accomphshed  trickst€r 
with  his  clever  brushwork  and  briUiant  manipulation  of  many 
colours. 

"  '  Distrust  everything  you  have  done  without  understanding  it. 
I  mean  every  effort  you  have  obtained  without  knowing  how. 
Remember  I  am  speaking^always  to  the  student,  and  teaching  you 
how  to  paint. 

"  '  It  is  not  sufficient  to  have  achieved  a  fine  piece  of  painting. 

234  [isys 


THE    ACADEMIE    CARMEN 

You  must  know  how  you  did  it,  tliat  the  next  time  you  can  do  it 
again,  and  never  have  to  suffer  from  that  disastrous  state  of  being 
of  the  clever  and  meretricious  artist,  whose  friends  say  to  him, 
^^^lat  a  charming  piece  of  painting,  do  not  touch  it  again — 
and,  although  he  knows  it  is  incomplete,  yet  he  dare  not  but 
comply,  because  he  knows  he  might  never  get  the  same  clever  effect 
again. 

"  '  Find  out  and  remember  which  of  the  colours  you  most  em- 
ployed, how  you  managed  the  turning  of  the  shadow  into  the  Ught, 
and,  if  you  do  not  remember,  scrape  out  your  work  and  do  it  all 
over  again,  for  you  are  here  to  learn,  and  one  fact  is  worth  a 
thousand  misty  imaginings.  You  must  be  able  to  do  every  part 
equally  well,  for  the  greatness  of  a  work  of  Art  lies  in  the  perfect 
harmony  of  the  whole,  not  in  the  fine  painting  of  one  or  more 
details.' 

"  It  was  many  months  before,  finallj',  a  student  produced  a 
canvas  which  showed  a  grasp  of  the  science  he  had  so  patiently 
been  explaining.  Mr.  Wliistler  deUghted  to  show  his  pleasure  in 
this,  and  had  the  canvas  placed  on  an  easel  and  in  a  frame  that 
he  might  more  clearly  point  out  to  the  other  students  the  reason 
of  its  merit ;  it  showed  primarily  an  understanding  of  the  two 
great  principles  ;  first,  it  represented  a  figure  inside  the  frame  and 
surrounded  by  the  proper  atmospliere  of  the  stud.'o,  and,  secondly, 
it  was  created  of  one  piece  of  flesh,  simply  but  firmly  painted  and 
free  from  mark  of  brush.  As  the  weeks  went  on,  and  the  progress 
in  this  student's  work  continued,  Mr.  Whistler  finally  handed  over 
to  her  [Mrs.  Addams]  the  surveillance  of  the  newcomers  and  the 
task  of  explaining  to  them  the  first  principles  of  his  manner. 

"  The  Academic  continued  to  receive  much  praise  and  much 
blame  ;  at  least,  it  had  the  distinction  of  causing  the  rumour  that 
something  was  being  taught  there ;  something  definite  and 
absolute.  But  the  inability  to  understand  caused,  in  most  cases, 
a  bitter  feeUng  of  resentment  and  deep  distrust,  and  there  was  a 
constant  going  and  coming  in  the  Academic. 

"  A  large  number  of  students  who  had  been  in  the  Academic  for 
a  short  time  and  had  left,  again  returned,  dissatisfied  with  other 
schools  (where  ordinary  weekly  criticism  of  the  usual  kind  was 
received).  After  the  statements  heard  from  Mr.  Whistler  they 
seemed  strangely  alone  and  unguided,  and  so  they  returned  that 
they  might  once  more  satisfy  themselves  that  nothing  wsis  to  be 
learned  there  after  all, 
1898]  235 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

"  Mr.  Wliistler  allowed  this  to  continue  for  some  time.  But, 
finally,  the  fatigue  of  such  constant  changes  caused  him  to  issue 
an  order  that  the  Academie  Carmen  should  be  tried  but  once. 

"  Most  particularly  were  the  students  in  the  men's  life  class 
constantly  changing.  On  Christmas  Day,  Mr.  Whistler  invited 
them  to  visit  him  in  liis  atelier  and  showed  them  many  of  his  own 
beautiful  canvases  in  various  stages  of  completeness  ;  explaining 
how  certain  results  had  been  obtained,  and  how  certain  notes  had 
been  blended  ;  and  assuring  them  that  he  used  au  fond  the  science 
he  was  teacliing  them,  only  that  each  student  would  arrange  it 
according  to  his  own  needs  as  time  went  on,  and  begging  them 
not  to  hesitate  to  ask  him  any  question  that  they  wished  or  to 
jKjint  out  anything  they  failed  to  understand.  There  was  an 
increased  enthusiasm  for  a  few  weeks,  but  gradually  the  old  spirit 
of  misunderstanding  and  mistrust  returned,  and  the  men's  class 
again  contained  but  few  students. 

"  Another  disappointment  to  them  was  that  Mr.  AVliistler  ex- 
plained, when  they  showed  him  pictures  they  had  painted  with 
a  hope  to  exploit  as  pupils  of  the  Master  in  the  yearly  Salon,  that 
tliis  was  impossible — that  their  complete  understanding  of  the 
Great  Principles  and  the  fitting  execution  of  their  application  could 
not  be  a  matter  of  a  few  months'  study,  and  he  laughingly  told  them 
that  he  was  like  a  chemist  who  put  drugs  into  bottles,  and  he 
certainly  should  not  send  those  bottles  out  in  his  name  unless  he 
was  quite  satisfied  with,  and  sure  of,    the  contents. 

"  In  February  1899,  Mr.  Whistler  had  copies  made  of  A 
Further  Proposition  [from  TJie  Gentle  Art,  page  177],  the  opening 
paragraph  slightly  changed,  and  one  was  placed  in  English  and 
one  in  French  [the  translation  by  M.  Duret]  on  the  walls  of  the 
two  ateliers. 

"  And  a  month  later,  copies  of  Proimsition  No.  J  [Gentle  Art, 
page  115]  were  hung  beside  it. 

"  The  last  week  of  the  Acadtmie's  first  year  arrived — and  Mr. 
Whistler  spent  the  whole  of  each  and  every  morning  there.  The 
supervision  of  the  students'  work  was  so  satisfactory  to  himself  in 
one  case  that  he  communicated  with  the  student,  after  the  closing 
of  the  Academie,  to  announce  to  her  that  he  desired  to  enter  into 
an  Apprenticeship  with  her,  for  a  term  of  five  years,  as  he  con- 
sidered it  would  take  fully  that  time  to  teach  her  the  whole  of  his 
Science  and  make  of  her  a  finished  craftsman — with  her  artistic 
development  he  never  for  a  moment  pretended  to  interfere,  or  to 
236  [18P9 


-                           -      H 

r 

■J- 

^  :•->>■                                   -* 

h5Sa^ 

■i^tim^jtgtrmUti 

^TIDIKS  FOR  AGXES  MAKV  ALEXANDER 


AGNKS  MAKY,  MISS  AI.KXANDKK 


THE    ACADEMIE    CARMEN 

have  anything  to  do — '  that,'  he  said,  '  is  or  is  not  superb — it  was 
determined  at  birth,  but  I  can  teach  you  how  to  paint.' 

"  So,  on  the  20th  of  July  (1899),  the  Deed  of  Apprenticeship 
[with  Mrs.  Addams]  was  signed  and  legally  witnessed,  and,  in  the 
following  terms,  she  '  bound  herself  to  her  Master  to  learn  the 
Art  and  Craft  of  a  painter,  faithfully  to  serve  after  the  manner  of 
an  Apprentice  for  tlie  full  term  of  five  years,  his  secrets  keep  and 
his  la^^'ful  commands  obey,  she  shall  do  no  damage  to  his  goods 
nor  suffer  it  to  be  done  by  others,  nor  waste  his  goods,  nor  lend 
them  unlawfully,  nor  do  any  act  whereby  he  might  sustain  loss, 
nor  sell  to  other  painters  nor  exhibit  during  her  apprenticeship 
nor  absent  herself  from  her  said  blaster's  service  unlawfully, 
but  in  all  things  as  a  faithful  Apprentice  shall  behave  herself 
towards  her  said  Master  and  others  during  the  said  term.  ,  .  . 
And  the  said  Master,  on  his  side,  undertakes  to  teach  and  instruct 
her  or  cause  her  to  be  taught  and  instructed.  But  if  she  com- 
mit any  breach  of  these  covenants  he  may  immediately  discharge 
her.' 

"  Into  the  hands  of  liis  Apprentice — also  now  the  Massiire — Mr. 
Whistler  gave  the  opening  of  the  school  the  second  year,  sending 
all  instructions  to  her  from  Pourville  where  he  was  staying. 

"  Each  new  candidate  for  admission  should  submit  an  example 
of  his  or  her  work  to  the  Massiere,  and  so  prevent  the  introduction 
into  the  Acadimie  of,  firstly,  those  who  were  at  present  incom- 
petent to  place  a  figure  in  fair  drawing  upon  the  canvas  ;  and, 
secondly,  those  whose  instruction  in  an  adverse  manner  of  painting 
had  gone  so  far  that  their  work  would  cause  dissension  and  argu- 
ment in  the  Acadimie.  Unfortunately,  this  order  was  not  well 
received  by  some,  though  the  majority  were  only  too  wilhng  to 
accede  to  any  desire  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Whistler. 

"  A  number  absolutely  refused  to  suffer  any  rule,  and  preferred 
to  distrust  wliat  they  could  not  understand,  and  the  talk  among  the 
students  of  the  Quartier  was  now  in  disparagement  of  the  Acadimie. 

"  Mr.  Whistler  continued  his  weekly  visits,  as  soon  as  he  returned 
to  Paris,  although  he  did  not  always  attend  the  afternoon  classes 
as  before,  but  when  he  was  unable  to  do  so  he  always  criticised 
the  work  after  he  had  been  round  the  atelier,  and  seen  the  studies 
which  were  then  being  worked  upon  in  the  morning  class. 

"  He  gave  always  the  same  unfailing  attention,   though  to 
those  who  had  just  entered  he  would  say  little  at  first,  leaving 
the  Massiere  to  explain  the  palette. 
1899]  237 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

"  Compositions  were  never  done  in  the  school.  It  was  told  that 
it  was  so  much  more  important  to  learn  to  paint  and  draw  Nature, 
for  as  Mr.  Whistler  said,  '  if  ever  you  saw  anything  really  per- 
fectly beautiful,  suppose  you  could  not  draw  and  paint  it ! ' — '  The 
faculty  for  composition  is  part  of  the  artist,  he  has  it,  or  he  has  it 
not — he  cannot  acquire  it  by  study — he  will  only  learn  to  adjust 
the  compositions  of  others,  and,  at  the  same  time,  he  uses  his 
faculty  in  every  figure  he  draws,  every  line  he  makes,  while  in  the 
large  sense,  composition  may  be  dormant  from  childhood  until 
maturity  ;  and  there  it  will  be  found  in  all  its  fresh  vigour  ; 
waiting  for  tlie  craftsman  to  use  the  mysterious  quantity,  in  his 
adjustment  of  his  perfect  drawings  to  fit  their  spaces.' 

"  The  third  and  last  year  (1900)  of  the  Acadcmie  Carmen  was 
marked  at  its  commencement  by  the  failure  to  open  a  men's  life 
class.  Jlr.  Whistler  had  suffered  so  greatly  during  the  preceding 
years  from  their  apparent  inability  to  comprehend  his  principles 
and  also  from  the  very  short  time  the  students  remained  in  the 
school,  that  at  the  latter  part  of  the  season  he  often  refused  to 
criticise  in  the  men's  class  at  all.  He  would  call  at  the  Passage 
Stanislas  sometimes  on  Sunday  mornings  and  himself  take  out  and 
place  upon  easels  the  various  studies  that  had  been  done  by  tlie 
men  the  previous  week,  and  often  he  would  declare  that  nothing 
interested  him  among  them,  and  that  he  should  not  criticise  that 
week,  that  he  could  not  face  the  fatigue  of  the  '  blankness  '  of  the 
atelier. 

"  The  Acadtmie  was  opened  in  October  1900,  by  a  woman's 
life  class  alone,  and  it  was  well  attended.  The  school  had  been 
moved  to  an  old  building  in  the  Boulevard  Montparnasse.  But 
shortly  after,  Mr.  AVhistler  was  taken  very  ill,  and  he  was  forced 
to  leave  England  on  a  long  voyage.  He  wrote  a  letter  to  the 
students,  that  never  reached  them  ;  then,  from  Corsica,  another, 
with  his  best  wishes  for  the  New  Century,  and  his  explanation  of 
the  Doctor's  abrupt  orders.  The  Acadtmie  was  kept  open  by  the 
Apprentice  until  the  end  of  March,  but  the  faith  of  the  students 
seemed  unable  to  bear  further  trials,  and  after  great  discontent  at 
Mr.  Wiistler's  continued  absence  and  a  gradual  d^^^ndling  away 
of  the  students  until  there  were  but  one  or  two  left,  the  Apprentice 
wrote  of  this  to  Mr.  Whistler  who  was  still  in  Corsica  (1901)." 

Whistler  at  once  wrote  from  Ajaccio  a  formal  letter  of 
dismissal  to  the  few  students  left ;  kissing  the  tips  of  their 
238  [1901 


THE    ACADEMIE    CARMEN 

rosy  fingers,  bidding  them  God  Speed,  and  stating  the  case 
from  his  point  of  view  so  that  history  might  be  made.  The 
reading  of  the  letter  by  the  massiere  in  the  atelier  closed  the 
school,  and  with  it,  an  experiment  to  which  Whistler  brought 
his  accustomed  enthusiasm,  only  to  meet  from  the  average 
student,  the  distrust  in  himself  and  his  methods  that  the 
average  artist  had  shown  him  all  his  life.  One  of  the 
last  things  Whistler  did  before  the  close  was  to  make  an 
apprentice  also  of  Mr.  Clifford  Addams,  the  one  man  who 
remained  a  faithful  student.  And  in  his  case  too  a  Deed  of 
Apprenticeship  was  drawn  up  and  signed. 

The  storj'  of  the  Academic  is  carried  on  in  the  following 
letter  from  Mr.  Frederick  MacMonnies,  concerning  his  con- 
nection with  the  Academic  Carmen  which  brought  him  into 
nearer  relations  with  Whistler  : 

"  ....  About  the  Carmen  school.  I  was  very  much 
entertained  by  the  whole  afifair — his  sincere  kindliness  and  fatherly 
interest  in  Carmen.  I  had  always  heard  so  much  about  his  being 
impossible,  &c.,  but  the  more  I  saw  of  him,  the  more  I  realised 
that  any  one  who  could  quarrel  with  him  must  be  written  down  as 
an  ass. 

"  It  seemed  to  me  he  was  about  what  people  call  a  perfect  gentle- 
man— as  unflinchingly  square  an  individual  as  I  have  ever  known. 
I  have  always  hoped  to  reach  his  age  and  retain  whatever  faculties 
I  have,  as  he  kept  his,  and  if  I  could  acquire  the  charming  casual 
outlook  at  that  usually  dreary  period  I  should  die  happy. 

"  An  instance  of  his  rare  straightforwardness  and  entire  frank- 
ness in  friendship  occurred  in  the  Carmen  School.  He  used  to 
come  up  to  my  studio  just  before  breakfast,  and  we  would  go  off 
to  La  venue's  or  the  Cafe  du  Cardinal. 

"  One  morning  he  said  he  had  a  great  affair  on  hand.  Carmen 
was  going  to  open  a  school  and  he  had  agreed  to  teach,  a  thing 
he  had  always  said  was  shocking,  useless,  and  encouragement  of 
incapables.  He  suggested  I  help  him  out  with  teaching  the 
sculptor  pupils  and  the  drawing,  so  I  gladly  agreed,  and  looked 
forward  to  high  larks,  as  I  was  sure  things  would  occur. 

"  All  the  schools  in  Paris  were  deserted  immediatelj',  and  the 
1901]  239 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

funny  little  studios  of  Carmen's  place  were  packed  •with  all  kinds 
of  boys  and  girls,  mostly  Americans,  who  had  tried  all  styles  of 
teaching  in  every  direction. 

"  Mr.  Whistler,  having  a  fuU  sense  of  a  picturesque  grande 
entree,  did  not  appear  until  the  school  was  in  full  swing  about  a 
week  after  the  opening,  and  until  the  pupils  had  passed  the  pal- 
pitating stage  and  were  in  a  dazed  state  of  expectancy  and  half 
collapsed  into  nervous  prostration.  The  various  samples  of  such 
awaiting  liim  represented  the  methods  of  almost  every  teacher  in 
Paris. 

"  He  arrived,  gloves  and  cane  in  hand,  and  enjoyed  every 
minute  of  his  stay,  daintily  and  gaUy  touching,  in  the  prettiest  way 
very  weighty  matters.  A  few  days  after  his  arrival  I  went  to  the 
School  and  found  the  entire  crew  painting  as  black  as  a  hat — 
delicate  rose-coloured  pearly  models  translated  into  mulattoes,  a 
most  astonishing  transformation.  As  time  went  on  the  blackness 
increased.  Finally,  one  day,  I  suggested  to  one  of  the  young 
women  who  was  particularly  dreary,  to  tone  her  study  up.  She 
informed  me  she  saw  it  so.  I  took  her  palette  and  keyed  the 
figure  into  something  like  the  dehcate  and  brilliant  colouring, 
much  to  her  disgust.  "WTien  I  had  finished,  she  informed  me  '  Mr. 
■\\Tiistler  told  me  to  paint  it  that  way.'  I  told  her  she  had  mis- 
understood, that  he  had  never  meant  her  to  paint  untrue.  Several 
criticisms  among  the  men  of  the  same  sort  of  thing,  and  I  left. 

"  Of  course,  all  tliis  was  immediately  carried  to  \YlListler,  and  a 
few  days  later,  after  breakfast,  over  his  coffee,  he  waved  his 
cigarette  in  that  effective  hand  of  his,  toward  me,  and  said,  '  Now 
my  dear  MacMonnies,  I  hke  you — and  I  am  going  to  talk  to  you 
the  way  your  Mother  does  (he  used  to  play  whist  in  Paris  with  my 
Mother,  and  they  had  a  most  amusing  combination).  Now  you 
see  I  have  always  beUeved  there  has  been  something  radically 
wrong  with  all  tliis  teaching  that  has  been  going  on  in  Paris  all 
these  years  in  Juhan's  and  the  rest.  I  decided  years  ago  the 
principle  was  false.  They  give  the  young  things  men's  food  when 
they  require  pap.  j\Iy  idea  is  to  give  them  three  or  four  colours — 
let  them  learn  to  model  and  paint  the  form  and  line  first  until 
they  are  strong  enough  to  use  others.  If  they  become  so,  well 
and  good,  if  not,  let  them  sink  out  of  sight.'  I  suggested  the 
doubt  that  their  eyes  might  in  tliis  way  be  trained  to  see  wrong. 
No,  he  did  not  agree  with  that.  Anyway,  I  immediately  natur- 
ally apologised,  and  told  the  dear  old  chap  I  was  a  presuming  and 
240  [1901 


THE    AC AD EM IE    CARMEN 

meddlesome  ass,  and  if  I  had  known  he  was  running  his  school 
on  a  system,  I  would  have  remained  silent.  If  you  could  have 
seen  the  charming  manner,  his  frank  kindness  and  friendly  spirit 
with  whicli  he  undertook  to  remonstrate,  you  would  understand 
how  much  I  admired  his  generous  spirit,  whicli  I  beheve  was  a 
fruit  of  his  great  originality  of  mind. 

"  Few  men  under  the  circumstances  (I  being  verj^  much  his 
junior)  would  not  have  made  a  great  row  and  got  upon  their  high 
horses,  and  we  would  have  quit  enemies. 

"  Later,  I  found  that  the  sculptor  pupils  did  not  arrive  in  droves 
to  be  taught  by  me,  and  the  drawing  criticisms  urmecessary,  as  the 
School  had  become  a  tonal  modelling  school  and  my  criticisms 
superfluous.  I  proposed  to  Mr.  Whistler  that  I  was  de  trop,  and 
that  it  could  only  be  properly  done  by  him  ;  he  agreed  and  I  left. 

"  M.  Rodin  (or  his  friends)  wished  to  take  my  place,  but  Mr. 
Wliistler,  I  lieard,  said  he  could  not  under  any  circumstances  have 
any  one  replace  MacMonnies,  as  it  might  occasion  comment  un- 
favourable to  me.  Now  I  consider  that  one  of  the  rarest  of  friendly 
actions,  as  I  knew  he  would  not  have  objected  to  Rodin  otherwise. 

"  A  canny,  croaking  friend  of  mine,  wlio  hated  ^^^listler  and 
never  lost  an  opportunity  of  misquoting  and  belittling  him,  dropped 
in  at  my  house  a  few  nights  after  my  resignation  from  the  School, 
quite  full  up  with  croaks  of  delight  that  we  had  fallen  out,  as  he 
supposed,  and  that  the  row  he  had  long  predicted  had  finally  come 
off.  I  laughed  it  off,  and  after  dinner  a  familiar  knock,  and  who 
should  be  ushered  in  but  Mr.  Whistler,  asking  us  to  play  another 
game  of  whist. 

"  A  rather  amusing  thing  occurred  in  my  studio. 

"  A  rich  and  very  amusing  ratlier  spread-eagle  young  American 
got  into  a  tussle  of  wits  \\ith  Whistler — neither  had  met  before — 
(Whistler  however  knew  and  liked  his  brother) — on  the  advantage 
of  foreign  study  and  life  abroad.  I  cannot  remember  all  the  dis- 
tinguished and  amusing  arguments  or  the  delightful  appreciation  of 
the  French  people  of  Wliistler,  or  of  the  rather  boring  and  rather 
brutal  jabbing  of  the  young  man.  At  any  rate,  Wliistler  defended 
himself  admirably,  always  keeping  his  temper,  which  the  young 
man  \^•ished  him  to  lose  in  order  to  trip  him  up,  I  saw  that  Whistler 
was  bored,  and  tried  to  separate  them,  but  it  had  gone  too  far. 
Finally,  Whistler  held  out  liis  hand  and  with  his  charming  quizzical 
smile  said,  '  Good-bye,  oh,  ah,  I  am  so  glad  to  have  met  you — on 
account  of  your  brother  !  ' 
1901]  n:g  241 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

"  The  year  before  AAliistler  died,  in  December,  I  went  to 
America,  on  a  short  trip.  I  hadn't  been  home  for  a  number  of 
years.  'Whistler  had  always  said  he  would  go  back  with  me  some 
time,  so  I  telegraphed  him  at  Bath,  to  induce  him  to  come  with 
me.  He  replied  by  telegram,  '  Merry  Xmas,  hon  voyage,  but  I 
fear  you  will  have  to  face  your  country  without  me.' 

"  I  am  so  sorry  I  can't  give  you  more  interesting  things  about 
one  of  the  few  men  I  have  met  for  whom  I  have  an  unbounded 
admiration  and  affection." 

To  any  one  familiar  with  art  schools,  ^\liistler's  idea 
appeared  revolutionary,  but  he  knew  that  he  was  merely 
carrying  on  the  tradition  of  Gleyre's  teaching.  The  average 
art  school  is  now  conducted  on  such  totally  different  prin- 
ciples that  a  comparison  may  be  useful.  The  usual  drawback 
is  that  the  student  is  not  taught  how  to  do  anything.  The 
master  puts  him  at  dramng,  telling  him,  after  the  drawing 
is  finished,  where  it  is  wrong.  The  student  starts  again  and 
drops  into  worse  blunders  because  he  has  not  been  told  how 
to  avoid  the  first.  If  he  improves,  it  is  by  accident,  or  his 
own  intelligence,  more  than  by  the  teaching.  As  soon  as  a 
pupil  has  learned  enough  drawing  to  avoid  the  mistakes  of 
the  beginner,  and  to  make  it  difficult  for  the  master  to  detect 
his  faults,  he  is  put  at  painting,  and  the  problem  becomes 
twice  as  difficult  for  the  student.  In  di'awing,  each  school 
has  some  fixed  method  of  working,  nowhere  more  fixed  than 
at  the  Royal  Academy,  which  leads  to  nothing.  In  painting, 
the  professor  continues  to  correct  mistakes  in  colom',  in  tone, 
in  value,  which  is  easier  than  to  correct  drawing,  and  the 
student  becomes  more  confused  than  ever,  for  he  is  in  colour 
still  less  likely  than  in  drawing  to  tumble  unaided  on  the 
right  thing.  As  to  teaching  him  the  use  of  colours,  the 
mixing  of  colours,  the  proper  arrangement  of  the  palette, 
the  handling  of  his  tools — these  are  things  neglected  in 
modern  schools.  The  result  is  that  the  newcomer  imitates 
the  older  students — the  favourites — and  they  all  shuffle 
242  [1901 


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(Pencil  Drawing) 


THE    ACADEMIE    CARMEN 

along  somehow.  Any  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  master  to 
impress  his  character  on  the  students  would  be  vigorously 
resented  by  most  of  them,  and  any  attempt  at  individuality 
on  their  part  would  be  resented  by  everybody,  for  the  average 
art  school,  like  the  average  technical  school,  is  the  resort 
of  the  incompetent  and  the  lazy.  The  Royal  Academy  goes 
so  far  as  to  change  the  visitors  in  its  painting  schools,  that 
is  the  teachers,  every  month,  and  the  confusion  to  the 
student  handed  on  from  Mr.  Sargent,  for  example,  to  Mr. 
Frith,  and  then  perhaps  to  Sir  Hubert  Von  Herkomer,  as 
may  sometimes  have  happened,  can  easily  be  imagined. 

For  this  sort  of  art  school.  Whistler  had  no  toleration — 
its  principal  product  was  the  amateur,  he  thought.  When 
Mr.  Dowdeswell  asked  him 

"  Then  you  would  do  away  with  all  tlie  art  schools  ? " 
^Vhistler  answered, 

"  Not  at  all,  they  are  harmless,  and  it  is  just  as  well  when  the 
genius  apjiears  that  he  should  find  the  fire  alight  and  the  room 
warm,  easels  close  to  his  hand,  and  the  model  sitting — though  I 
have  no  doubt  but  that  he'll  immediately  alter  the  pose  !  " 

Whistler  would  have  liked  to  practise  the  methods  of  the  Old 
Masters.  He  would  have  taught  the  students,  from  the  begin- 
ning, from  the  grinding  and  mixing  of  the  colours.  The 
only  knowledge  necessary  for  them  to  acquire  was,  in  his 
opinion,  how  to  use  their  tools  so  that  there  could  never  be 
a  doubt  as  to  the  result.  The  pvipil  was  not  to  be  praised 
for  an  accidental  effect,  or  criticised  for  a  mistake  he  recog- 
nised himself,  and  the  master's  task  was  to  give  him  confidence 
in  his  materials  and  certainty  in  their  handling.  Whistler 
believed  that  students,  to  acquire  this  knowledge,  should 
work  with  him  as  apprentices  worked  with  their  master  in 
earlier  centuries.  Artists  then  taught  the  student  to  work 
exactly  as  they  did.  How  much  individuality,  save  the 
1901  243 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

master's,  is  shown  in  Rubens'  canvases,  mostly  done  by  his 
pupils  ?  So  long  as  Van  Dj'ck  remained  with  Rubens,  he 
worked  in  Rubens'  manner,  mastering  his  trade.  When  he 
felt  strong  enough  to  say  what  he  wanted  to  say  in  his  own 
way  as  an  accomplished  craftsman,  he  left  the  school  and 
set  up  for  himself.  Raphael  was  trained  in  his  trade  in 
Perugino's  studio,  helped  his  master,  and,  when  he  had 
learned  all  he  could  there,  opened  one  of  his  own.  Whistler 
often  said  to  us  that  Tintoretto  never  did  anything  for 
himself  until  he  was  forty.  And  this  is  exactly  the  way 
Whistler  wished  his  students  to  work  with  him.  The  mis- 
fortune is  that  he  waited  to  try  the  experiment  until  it  was 
too  late  for  him  to  profit  by  the  skill  of  the  apprentices 
whom  he  had  trained  to  the  point  of  being  of  use  to  him 
in  his  various  schemes.  He  knew  that  it  would  take 
at  least  five  years  for  students  to  learn  to  use  the  tools  he 
put  into  their  hands,  and  the  fact  that,  at  the  end  of  three 
years,  when  the  school  stopped,  a  few  of  his  pupils  could  paint 
well  enough  in  his  manner  for  their  painting  to  be  mistaken 
for  Whistler's,  shows  how  right  he  was.  If,  after  five  years, 
they  could  see  for  themselves  the  beauty  that  was  around 
them,  they  would  by  that  time  have  been  taught  how  to 
paint  it,  for  what  he  could  do  was  to  teach  them  to  translate 
their  vision  on  to  canvas.     Mr.  Starr  says  that  Whistler 

"  told  me  to  paint  things  exactly  as  I  saw  them.  He  always 
did.  '  Young  men  think  they  should  paint  hke  this  or  that 
painter.  Be  quite  simple,  no  fussy  foolishness,  j'ou  know  ;  and 
don't  try  to  be  what  they  call  strong.  AMien  a  picture  smells  of 
paint,'  he  said  slowly,  '  it's  what  they  call  strong.'  " 

Had  his  health  been  maintained  during  those  last  years,  had 
he  not  been  discouraged  by  the  fact  that  students  mostly 
came  to  liim  with  the  desire  to  do  work  which  looked  easy, 
great  results  would,  probably,  have  been  accomplished. 
His  chief  regret  was  that  students  who  knew  nothing  did 
244  [1901 


THE    ACADEMIE    CARMEN 

not  begin  with  him.  Mrs.  Addams  has  told  us  of  the  great 
success  of  one,  Miss  Prince,  who  had  never  been  in  an  art 
school.  She  had  nothing  to  unlearn.  She  understood,  and, 
at  the  end  of  a  year,  had  made  more  progress  than  any  one 
else.  Most  of  the  students,  elementary  or  advanced,  in  the 
Academic  Carmen  thought  that  'SVliistler  was  going  to  teach 
them  how,  by  some  short  cut,  they  could  arrive  at  distinction, 
better  and  quicker  than  elsewhere.  When  they  found  that, 
though  the  system  was  different,  they  had  to  go  through 
drudgery  as  in  any  other  art  school,  they  were  dissatisfied 
and  left.  Moreover,  the  strict  discipline  and  the  separation 
of  the  sexes  were  unpopular.  Nor  could  they  understand 
AVhistler.  Many  of  his  sayings  recorded  by  them  explain 
their  bewilderment. 

One  day.  Whistler,  going  into  the  class,  encountered  three 
new  pupils.     To  one  of  these,  an  American,  he  said  : 

"  Where  have  you  studied  ?  " 

"  With  Chase." 

"  You  couldn't  have  done  better  !  " 

"  And  where  have  you  studied  ?  " 

"  With  Bonnat." 

"  Couldn't  have  done  better." 

"  \\Tiere  have  you  studied  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  studied  anywhere,  Jlr.  Wliistler." 

"  You  could  not  have  done  better  !  " 

To  the  young  lady  who  told  him  one  day  that  she  was 
painting  what  she  saw,  his  answer  was,  "  The  shock  will 
come  when  j^ou  see  what  you  paint  !  "  To  the  man  in  the 
early  days  who  was  smoking,  he  said, 

"  Really,   you   had   better  stop  painting,   or,   otherwise,   you 
might  get  interested  in  your  work,  and  your  pipe  \\ould  go  out  !  " 

Of  a  superior  amateur  he  inquired  : 

"  Have  you  been  through  college  ?     I  suppose  you    shoot — 
fish,   of  course  ? — go  in  for  football,   no  doubt  1 — yes  ?      Well, 
then  I  can  let  you  oS  for  painting." 
1901]  245 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

We  asked  Whistler  how  much  truth  there  was  in  these 
stories.     His  answer  was, 

"  Well,  you  know,  the  one  thing  I  cannot  be   responsible   for 
in  my  daily  life  is  the  daily  story  about  me." 

But  he  admitted  that  they  were,  in  the  main,  true.  He 
added  one  incident  that  we  have  heard  from  no  one  else  and 
that  has  a  more  personal  interest  as  it  explains  a  peculiarity 
to  which  we  have  referred.  In  Venice,  he  said,  he  got  into 
the  habit,  as  he  worked  on  his  plates,  of  blowing  away  the 
little  powder  raised  by  the  needle  ploughing  through  the 
varnish  to  the  copper,  and,  unconsciously,  he  kept  on  blowing 
even  when  painting  or  drawing.  Once,  at  the  school,  after 
he  had  painted  before  the  students  and  had  left  the  studio, 
there  was  heard  in  the  silence  a  sound  of  blowing  from  one 
corner.  Then  another  student  began  blowing  away  im- 
aginary things  as  he  worked,  and  so  they  went  on,  one  after 
the  other.  "  Tiens,"  they  said,  "  aheady  we  have  la  maniere, 
and  that  is  much."  Whistler  heard  of  it,  and  broke  himself 
of  the  habit  altogether. 

Whistler's  wit  and  his  manner  misled  the  average  youth 
who  studied  with  him,  but  the  truth  is  that  his  interest  in 
his  pupils  was  as  unbounded  as  their  incredulity,  and  his 
belief  in  his  method  of  instruction.  He  suggested  once  that 
his  criticisms  of  their  work  should  be  recorded  on  a  gramo- 
phone. He  thought  of  opening  another  class  in  London. 
The  only  time  E.  saw  the  Academic  towards  the  beginning  of 
the  second  year  the  whole  place  was  full  of  life  and  go.  But, 
in  the  end,  the  want  of  belief  in  his  methods,  and  his  loss  of 
health  disheartened  him,  and  his  absence  broke  up  the 
school.  However,  he  sowed  seed  which,  when  it  fell  into 
good  ground,  was  sure  to  bring  forth  a  thousandfold. 


246  [1901 


CHAPTER  XLVI.  THE  BEGINNING  OF 
THE  END.  THE  YEAR  NINETEEN 
HUNDRED 

IN  the  spring  of  1900  an  event  of  serious  importance  in 
our  relations  with  Whistler  occurred.  Towards  the 
end  of  May,  after  he  had  been  in  London  a  week  or  two,  he 
asked  us  to  write  his  Life.  Now  that  his  fame  was  estabhshed, 
a  great  deal,  indeed  far  too  much,  was  written  about  him. 
Various  unauthorised  publications  appeared,  others  were 
in  preparation,  and  it  was  evident  that  more  would  follow. 
Whistler  shrank  from  being  wr''^ten  about  by  people  whom 
he  knew  to  be  out  of  sympathy  with  him,  or  incapable  of 
appreciating  his  point  of  view,  which  to  many  critics  and 
commentators  was  and  remained  a  riddle.  Absurd  mistakes 
were  made,  facts  were  distorted,  and  often  his  indignation 
was  great.  At  last,  Mr.  Heinemann  suggested  that,  to  save 
himself  from  these  annoyances,  the  work  of  writing  his  Life 
should  be  entrusted,  with  his  authority,  to  some  one  he 
did  know  and  in  whom  he  had  full  confidence.  Mr.  Heine- 
mann first  thought  of  asking  W.  E.  Henley,  but  Whistler 
objected.  Mr.  Charles  Wliibley  was  next  proposed  by  Mr. 
Heinemann,  but  again  Whistler  objected.  It  was  after  this 
that  either  Mr.  Heinemann  or  Wliistler  mentioned  the  name 
of  Joseph  Pennell. 

We  had  been  abroad  for  a  few  days,  and  returned  to  London 
on  May  28  to  find  a  letter  from  Mr.  Heinemann  telling  J. 
of  this  "  magnificent  opportunity."  No  one  could  appreciate 
more  fully  the  honour,  as  well  as  the  responsibility.  He  saw 
1900]  247 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

WTiistler  at  once  to  consider  the  scheme,  though  he  said, 
"  You  are  the  modern  CelUni  and  you  should  write  it  your- 
self."    A\Tiistler  would  have  liked  to  do  so  but  he  never  had 
the  leisure.     He  promised  to  contribute  what  he  could  and 
we  believe  that,  while  staying  at  WTiitehall  Court,  he  wrote 
two  chapters  which  he  read  to  Mr.  Heinemann,  but  he  ulti- 
mately abandoned  the  task,  as  far  as  our  book  was  concerned. 
One  change  of  consequence  to  us  was  almost  immediately 
made,  ^\^listle^  arranging  that  we  should  do  the  work  together, 
and    not    J.    alone    as    was    originally    planned.      ^\'histle^ 
promised  to  help  us  in  every  way  and,  when  in  the  mood,  to 
tell  us  what  he  could  about  himself  and  his  life,  with  the 
understanding  that  we  were  to  take  notes.     He  was  not  a 
man   from   whom   dates   and   facts   could   be   forced.     His 
method  was   not   unlike   that   of   Dr.   Johnson   who,    when 
Boswell  asked  for  biographical  details,  said,  "  They'll  come 
out  by  degrees  as  we  talk  together."     \^Tiistler  had  to  talk 
in  his  own  fashion,  or  not  at  all,  but  we  were  to  be  ready  to 
listen  no  matter  where  we  met  or  under  what  conditions.     It 
was  also  agreed  that  photographs  should  be  taken  of  the 
works  in  his  studio  to  illustrate  the  volumes  and  that  they 
should   be   described.     In   those   days,    'Whistler's   pictures 
were  carried  off  only  too  quickly,  and  whatever  we  needed  for 
illustration,  or  as  a  record,  would  have  to  be  reproduced  at  once. 
The  duty  of  making  the  notes  fell  to  E.,  and,  from  that 
time  until  his  death,  she  kept  an  account  of  our  meetings 
with  him.     He  was  true  to  his  promise.     We  were  often  in 
the  studio,   and  we  spent  evening  after  evening  together. 
Sometimes  we  dined  Avith  him  at  Garlant's  Hotel  or  the 
Cafe  Royal,   sometimes  we  met  at  Mr.   Heinemann's,   but 
usually  he  dined  with  us  in  Buckingham  Street,  coming  so 
frequently  that  he  said  to  us  one  June  evening  : 

"  Well,  you  know,  you  will  feel  about  me  as  I  did  in  the  old 

days  about  the  man  I  could  never  ask  to^dinner  because  he  was 
248  -  .  -  ^^^^^ 


THE    BEGINNING    OF    THE    END 

always  there  !      I  couldn't  ask  him  to  sit  down,  because  there  he 
always  \\as,  already  in  his  chair  !  " 

Once  he  told  E.  to  write  to  J.,  who  was  out  of  town,  that 
he  was  living  on  our  staircase  now.  During  those  evenings 
he  gave  us  many  facts  and  much  material  used  in  previous 
chapters  of  our  book.  He  began  by  telling  us  of  the  years 
at  home,  his  student  days  in  Paris,  his  coming  to  Chelsea, 
and,  though  dates  were  not  a  strong  point  with  him,  we  soon 
had  a  consecutive  story  of  that  early  period.  Every  evening 
made  us  wish  more  than  ever  that  he  could  have  written 
instead  of  talking,  for  we  soon  discovered  the  difficulty  of 
rendering  his  talk.  He  used  to  reproach  J.  with  "  talking 
shorthand,"  but  no  one  was  a  greater  master  of  the  art  than 
himself.  And  so  much  of  its  meaning  was  in  the  pause,  the 
gesture,  the  laugh,  the  adjusting  of  the  eye-glass,  the  quick 
look  from  the  keen  blue  eyes  flashing  under  the  heavy  eye- 
brows. The  impression  left  with  us  from  the  close  inter- 
course of  this  summer  was  that  of  his  wonderful  vitalitj^, 
his  inexhaustible  youth.  As  yet,  illness  had  not  sapped  his 
energy.  He  was  now  a  man  of  sixty-six  but  only  the  grey- 
ness  of  the  ever-abundant  hair,  the  wrinkles,  the  loose  throat 
suggested  age.  He  held  himself  as  erect,  he  took  the  world 
as  gaily,  his  interests  were  as  young  and  fresh,  as  if  he  were 
a  youth  beginning  life.  Some  saw  a  sign  of  the  feebleness 
of  years  in  the  little  nap  after  dinner.  But  this  was  a  habit 
of  long  standing,  and  after  ten  minutes,  or  less,  he  was  awake, 
revived  for  the  talk  that  went  on  until  midnight  and  later. 

Whistler  wished  us  to  have  the  photographing  in  the 
studio  begun  without  delay.  Our  first  meeting  after  all 
the  preliminaries  were  settled  was  on  June  2  ;  on  the  6th 
the  photographer  and  his  assistant  were  in  Fitzroy  Street 
with  J.  to  superintend.  It  took  long  to  select  the  things 
which  should  be  done  first,  Mr.  Gray,  the  photographer, 
picking  out  those  which  he  thought  would  come  best,  Whistler 
1900]  249 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

preferring  others  that  Gray  feared  might  not  come  at  all, 
though  the  idea  was  that,  in  the  end,  everything  in  the  studio 
should  be  photographed.  Whistler  found  himself  shoved  in 
a  corner,  barricaded  behind  two  or  three  big  cameras  and 
he  could  scarcely  stir  without  shaking  them.  He  grew 
impatient,  he  insisted  that  he  must  work.  As  the  light  was 
not  good  for  the  photographer,  some  canvases  were  moved 
out  in  the  hall,  some  were  put  on  the  roof,  but  the  best  place 
was  discovered  to  be  Mr.  Wimbush's  studio  in  the  same 
building.  Then  Whistler  went  with  J.  through  the  little 
cabinets  where  pastels  and  prints  were  kept  and  Whistler 
decided  that  a  certain  number  must  be  worked  on  but  that 
the  others  could  be  photographed  at  once.  Then  they 
lunched  togethei",  and  then  Whistler's  patience  was  exhausted 
and  everybody  was  tiu-ned  out  until  the  next  day.  This 
explains  a  few  of  our  difficulties  and  the  reason  why  our 
progress  was  not  rapid. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  fever  of  work  that  had  taken  hold 
of  Whistler.  He  dreaded  to  lose  a  second.  He  was  rarely 
willing  to  leave  the  studio  during  the  day,  or,  if  he  did,  it  was 
to  work  somewhere  else,  as  when,  to  print  his  etchings,  he 
went  to  Mr.  Frank  Short's  studio.  We  have  given  Mr. 
Short's  account  of  the  printing.  Whistler's,  to  us,  was  that 
he  pulled  nineteen  prints  before  lunch  and  all  the  joy  in  it 
came  back,  but  he  did  not  return  in  the  afternoon,  because — 
"  well,  you  know,  my  consideration  for  others  quite  equals 
my  own  energy."  For  himself  he  had  no  consideration,  and 
in  his  studio  work  seldom  stopped.  We  remember  one 
late  afternoon  during  the  summer,  when  he  had  especially 
asked  us  to  come  to  the  studio,  finding  tea  on  the  table  and 
Whistler  at  his  easel.  "  We  must  have  tea  at  once  or  it 
will  get  cold,"  he  said,  and  went  on  painting.  Ten  minutes 
later  he  said  again,  "  We  must  have  tea,"  and  again  went  on 
painting.  And  the  tea  waited  for  a  good  half-hour  before 
250  [1900 


THE    BEGINNING    OF    THE    END 

he  could  lay  down  his  brush,  and  then  it  was  to  place  the 
canvas  in  a  frame  and  look  at  it  for  another  ten  minutes. 
When  even  an  invited  interruption  was  to  him  a  hindrance, 
he  could  not  but  find  Mr.  Gray,  with  his  huge  apparatus,  a 
nuisance.  A  good  many  photographs  were,  however,  made 
at  Fitzroy  Street,  and  Whistler,  though  he  kept  putting  off 
any  definite  arrangement  for  completing  the  task,  helped  to 
get  permission  for  pictures  to  be  photographed  elsewhere — 
wherever  the  photographer  did  not  interfere  with  his  own 
work.  In  this  way,  in  England,  America  and  on  the  Con- 
tinent, all  pictures  which  had  not  been  reproduced,  and  to 
which  access  could  be  obtained,  were  photographed. 

Nothing  interested  Whistler  more  this  year  than  the 
Universal  Exhibition  in  Paris  and  he  and  Mr.  John  M. 
Cauldwell,  the  American  Commissioner,  understood  each 
other  after  a  first  passage  at  arms.  Mr.  Cauldwell,  coming 
to  Paris  to  arrange  for  the  exhibition,  with  little  time  at  his 
disposal  and  a  great  deal  of  work  to  do,  had  written  to  ask 
Whistler  to  call  on  a  cei'tain  day  "  at  4"30  sharp."  Whistler's 
answer  was  that,  though  appreciating  the  honour  of  the 
invitation,  he  regretted  his  inability  to  meet  Mr.  Cauldwell 
as  he  had  never  been  anywhere  "  at  4'30  sharp,"  and  it  looked 
as  if  the  unfortunate  experience  of  1889  might  be  repeated. 
But,  when  Whistler  met  Mr.  Cauldwell,  when  he  found  how 
much  deference  was  shown  him,  when  he  saw  the  decora- 
tions and  arrangement  of  the  American  galleries,  he  was 
more  than  willing  to  be  represented  in  the  American  section. 
He  sent  UAndalouse,  the  portrait  of  Mrs.  Whibley,  Brown 
and  Gold,  the  full-length  of  himself,  and,  at  the  Committee's 
request.  The  Little  White  Girl,  never  before  seen  in  Paris. 
He  brought  together  also  a  fine  group  of  etchings,  and  when 
he  learned  that  he  was  awarded  a  Grand  Prix  for  painting 
and  another  for  engraving,  he  was  genuinely  gratified  and 
did  not  hesitate  to  show  it.  The  years  of  waiting  for  the 
1900]  231 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

official  compliment  so  long  deserved  had  not  soured  him  and 
did  not  lessen  his  pleasure  when  it  came.  Rossetti  retired 
from  the  battle  at  an  early  stage,  but  Whistler  fought  to  the 
end  and  made  the  most  of  his  hard-earned  \dctory.  He  was 
dining  at  Mr.  Heinemann's  when  he  received  the  news,  and 
they  drank  his  health  and  crowned  him  with  flowers,  and  he 
enjoyed  it  all  as  fully  as  he  did  the  jetes  of  his  early  Paris 
days.  J.  was  awarded  a  gold  medal  for  engraving  at  the 
same  time  and  we  also  suggested  that  the  occasion  was  one 
for  general  celebration,  which  was  complete  when  Timothy 
Cole,  another  gold  medallist,  appeared  unexpectedly  as  we 
were  sitting  down  to  dinner,  ^\^^istler  could  always  make 
a  ceremony  of  any  reunion  of  this  kind,  and  the  more  the 
ceremonial  was  observed,  the  more  it  was  to  his  taste.  He 
was  pleased  when  he  heard  that  his  medals  were  voted  unani- 
mously and  read  out  the  first  of  the  list  to  unanimous  applause. 
There  was  one  story  in  connection  with  the  awards  that 
amused  him  vastly.  Though  it  was  agreed  that  the  first 
medals  should  not  be  announced  until  all  the  others  were 
awarded,  somehow  the  news  leaked  out  and  got  into  the 
papers.  At  the  next  meeting  of  the  jurj-,  Carolus-Duran, 
always  gorgeous  in  his  appearance,  was  more  resplendent 
than  ever  in  a  flowered  waistcoat.  He  took  the  chair,  and 
at  once,  with  his  ej^e  on  the  foreign  contingent,  said  that 
there  had  been  indiscretions  among  some  of  the  members. 
Alexander  Harrison  was  up  like  a  shot  :  "  A  propos  dcs 
indiscretions,  Messieurs,  regardez  le  gilet  de  Carolus  !  " 

During  this  time  Whistler  was  paying  not  only  for  his 
rooms  at  the  Hotel  Chatham  in  Paris,  but  for  one  at  Gar- 
lant's  Hotel,  in  addition  to  the  apartment  in  the  Rue  du  Bac 
where  Miss  Birnie  Philip  and  her  mother  were  living,  for 
the  studios  in  the  Rue  Notre-Dame-des-Champs  and  Fitzroy 
Street,  and  lastly  for  the  "  Company  of  the  Butterfly's  "  rooms 
in  Hinde  Street,  Manchester  Square.  It  was  no  light  burden 
252  [1900 


THE   LITTI.K  WIIITK  GIKL 

{St/ III  pit  I  nil/  ill  IV/iitey  No.  If.) 


THE    BEGINNING    OF    THE    END 

though  he  had  a  hght  way  of  referring  to  them  all  as  "  my 
collection  of  chdteaux  and  ■pieds-d-terre.'"  His  pockets  were 
as  full  as  he  had  always  said  he  wanted  them  to  be,  but  he 
could  not  get  used  to  not  having  them  empty.  Once,  afraid 
he  could  not  meet  one  of  his  many  bills  for  rent,  he  asked 
a  friend  to  verify  his  bank  account  for  him,  with  the  result 
that  six  thousand  pounds  were  found  to  be  lying  idle — and 
so  the  thing  went  on — a  useless  drain  with  no  corresponding 
advantage. 

■\Miistler,  as  a  "  West  Point  man,"  followed  the  Boer  War 
with  the  same  zest  with  which  he  had  followed  the  Spanish 
War  in  1898,  but  from  a  different  standpoint.  In  this  case, 
it  was  "  a  beautiful  war  "  on  the  part  of  the  Boers,  for  whose 
pluck  he  had  unbounded  admiration.  From  Paris,  through 
the  winter,  he  had  sent  us,  week  by  week,  Caran  D 'Ache's 
cartoons  on  the  subject  published  in  the  Figaro.  In  London, 
he  cut  from  the  papers  despatches  and  leaders  that  reported 
the  bravery  of  the  Boers  and  the  blunders  of  the  British, 
and  carried  them  with  him  wherever  he  went.  His  own 
comments  were  witty  and  amusing,  but  naturally  they  did 
not  amuse  the  "  Islanders  "  whom,  however,  he  knew  how 
to  soothe  after  he  had  exasperated  them  almost  beyond 
endurance.  One  evening  J.  walked  back  with  him  to  Gar- 
lant's  and  they  were  having  their  whisky-and-soda  in  the 
landlady's  room  while  Whistler  gave  his  version  of  the  news  of 
the  day,  which  he  thought  particularly  discreditable  to  the 
British  army.  Then  suddenly,  when  it  seemed  as  if  the 
English  landlady  could  not  stand  it  an  instant  longer,  he 
turned  and  said  in  his  most  charming  manner,  "  Well,  you 
know,  you  would  have  made  a  very  good  Boer  yourself, 
JIadam."  As  he  said  it,  it  became  the  most  amiable  of 
compliments  and  the  evening  was  finished  over  a  dish  of 
choice  peaches  which  she  hoped  would  please  him.  At 
times  he  grew  excited  with  argument.  Another  evening, 
J  900]  253 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

the  Boers  were  on  the  point  of  kindling  a  fatal  war  between 
himself  and  a  good  friend,  when  a  bang  of  his  fist  on  the 
table  brought  down  a  picture  from  the  wall,  and,  in  the 
crash  of  glass,  the  Boers  were  forgotten.  No  one  who  met 
him  during  the  years  of  the  war  can  dissociate  him  from  this 
talk,  and  not  to  refer  to  it  would  be  to  give  a  poor  idea  of 
him  as  he  then  was.  If  he  had  a  sjTiipathetic  audience,  he 
went  over  again  and  again  the  incidents  that,  to  him,  were 
most  striking :  the  wonder  of  the  despatches  ;  General 
Roberts'  explanation  that  all  would  have  gone  well  with  the 
Suffolks  on  a  certain  occasion  if  they  had  not  had  a  panic  ; 
Mrs.  Kruger  recei\nng  the  British  army  while  the  Boers 
retired,  supplied  with  all  they  wanted  though  they  went  on 
capturing  the  British  soldier  wholesale  ;  General  Buller's 
announcement  that  he  had  made  the  enemy  respect  his  rear. 
WTien  he  was  told  of  despatches  stating  that  Buller,  on  one 
occasion,  had  retired  without  losing  a  man,  or  a  flag,  or  a 
cannon,  he  added,  "  yes,  or  a  minute."  He  constantly 
repeated  the  answer  of  an  unknown  man  at  a  lecture,  who, 
when  the  lecturer  declared  that  the  cream  of  the  British 
Army  had  gone  to  South  Africa,  called  out,  "  whipped 
cream."  The  blunderings  and  the  surrenderings  gave 
^\^listler  malicious  joy  and  he  declared  that  as  soon  as  the 
British  soldier  found  he  was  no  longer  in  a  majority  of  ten 
to  one,  he  threw  up  the  sponge.  He  recalled  Bismarck's 
saying  that  South  Africa  would  prove  the  grave  of  the  British 
Empire,  and  also  that  the  day  would  come  when  the  blundering 
of  the  British  army  would  surprise  the  world,  and  he  quoted 
as  seriously  "  a  sort  of  professional  prophet  "  who  predicted 
a  July  that  would  bring  destruction  to  the  British  :  '"  \Miat 
has  July  1900  in  store  for  the  Island  ?  "  he  would  ask. 

There  was  no  question  of  his  interest  in  the  Boers,  but 
neither  could  there  be  that  this  interest  was  coloured  by 
prejudice.  He  never  forgot  his  own  "  years  of  battle  "  in 
254  [1900 


THE    BEGINNING    OF    THE    END 

England,  when,  alone,  he  met  the  blunderings,  mistakes  and 
misunderstandings  of  artists,  critics  and  the  public.     In  his 
old  age,  as  in  his  youth,  he  loved  London  for  its  beauty. 
His  friends  were  there,  nowhere  else  was  life  so  congenial, 
and  not  even  Paris  could  keep  him  long  away  from  London. 
But  it  was  his  boast  that  he   was  an  American  citizen,  that 
on  his  father's  side  he  was  Irish,  a  Highlander  on  his  mother's, 
and  that  there  was  not  a  drop  of  Anglo-Saxon  blood  in  his 
veins.     He  had  no  affection  for  the  people  who  had  jjersisted 
in  their  abuse  and  ridicule  until,   confronted  by  the  first 
collection  of  his  life's  work,  they  were  compelled — however 
grudgingly — to  give  him  his  due.     This  was  why  he  often 
expressed  the  hope  that  none  of  his  pictures  should  remain  in 
England  and  emphasised  the  fact  that  his  sitters  at  the  end 
were  all  American  or  Scotch.     He  conquered,  but  the  con- 
quest did  not  make  him  accept  the  old  enemies    as    new 
friends.     In  the  position  of  the  Boers  he  no  doubt  fancied  a 
parallel  with  his  own  when,  alone,  they  defied  the  English 
who,  on  the  battlefield,  as  in  the  appreciation  of  art,  blun- 
dered and  misunderstood.     Whistler's  ingenuity   in   seeing 
only  what  he  wanted  to  see  and  in  making  that  conform  to 
his  theories   was  extraordinary.     He  could  not  be  beaten 
because,  for  him,  right  on  the  other  side  did  not  exist.     He 
came  nearest  to  it  one  evening  when  discussing  the  war  not 
with  an  Englishman,   but  with  an  American  and  a  West 
Point  officer  into  the  bargain,  whom  he  met  at  our  fiat  and 
who  said  that  there  was  always  blundering  at  the  opening 
of  a  campaign,  as  at  Santiago,  where  two  divisions  of  the 
United  States  army  were  drawn  up  so  that,  if  they  had  fired, 
they  must  have  shot  each  other  down.     It  was   a  shock, 
but  Whistler  rallied  quickly,  offered  no  comment,  and  was 
careful   afterwards  to  avoid  such  dangerous  ground.     Pre- 
judice coloured  all  his  talk  of  the  English,  whose  characteristics 
to  him  were  as  humorous  as  his  were  incomprehensible   to 
ifjoo]  355 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

them.  It  was  astonishing  to  hear  him  seize  upon  a  weak 
point,  play  with  it,  elaborate  it  fantasticallj%  retaining  always 
a  sufficient  basis  of  truth  to  make  his  ridicule  strike  home. 
The  "  enemies  "  suffered  from  his  wit  as  he  had  from  their 
density.  His  artistic  sense  served  him  in  satire  as  in  every- 
thing else.  One  favourite  subject  now  was  the  much-vaunted 
English  cleanliness.     He  had  evolved  an  elaborate  theory : 

"  Paris  is  full  of  baths  and  always  has  been  ;  you  can  see  them, 
beautiful  Louis  XV.  and  Louis  XVI.  baths  on  the  Seine  ;  in 
London,  until  a  few  years  ago,  there  were  none  except  in  Argyll 
Street,  to  which  Britons  came  ^ith  a  furtive  air,  afraid  of  being 
caught.  And  the  French,  having  the  habit  of  the  bath,  think 
and  say  nothing  of  it,  while  the  British — well — they're  so  aston- 
ished now  they  have  learned  to  bathe,  they  can't  talk  of  anything 
but  their  tub." 

The  Bath  Club  he  described  as  "  the  latest  incarnation 
of  the  British  discovery  of  water."  His  ingenious  answer 
was  always  ready  when  any  British  virtue  was  extolled. 
He  repeated  to  us  a  conversation  at  this  time  with  Madame 
Sarah  Grand.  She  said  it  was  delightful  to  be  back  in 
England  after  five  or  six  weeks  in  France  where  she  had  not 
seen  any  men,  except  two  and  they  were  Germans  whom 
she  could  have  embraced  in  welcome.  A  Frenchman  never 
would  forget  that  women  are  women.  She  liked  to  meet 
men  as  comrades,  without  any  thought  of  sex  at  all.  Whistler 
told  her, 

"  You  are  to  be  congratulated  madam — certainly,  the  EngUsh- 
woman  succeeds,  as  no  other  could,  in  obhging  men  to  forget  her 
sex." 

A  few  days  after,  he  reported  another  "  happy  "  answer. 
He  w'as  with  three  Englishmen  and  a  German.  One  of  the 
Englishmen  said, 

"  The  trouble  is,  we  English  are  too  honest — we  have  always 
been  stupidly  honest.' 
256  [1900 


THE    BEGINNING    OF    THE    END 

Whistler  turned  to  the  German, 

"  You  see,  it  is  now  liistorically  acknowledged,  whenever  there 
has  been  honesty  in  this  country,  there  has  been  stupidity." 

His  ingenuity  increased  with  the  consternation  it  caused,  and 
the  "  Islander  "  figured  more  and  more  in  his  talk. 

The  excitement  in  China  this  summer  interested  him  little 
less  than  affairs  in  South  Africa,  but  for  another  reason. 
He  was  indignant  not  with  the  Chinese  for  the  massacre  of 
the  European  Ministers  at  Pekin,  but  with  Americans  and 
Europeans  for  considering  the  massacre  an  outrage  that  called 
for  redress.  After  all,  the  Chinese  had  their  way  of  doing 
things,  and  it  was  better  to  lose  whole  armies  of  Europeans 
than  to  harm  the  smallest  of  the  beautiful  things  in  that 
wonderful  country.     He  said  to  us  one  day  : 

"  Here  are  these  people  thousands  of  years  older  in  civilisation 
than  we,  with  a  religion  thousands  of  years  older  than  ours,  and 
our  missionaries  go  out  there  and  tell  them  who  God  is.  It  is 
simply  preposterous,  you  know,  that  for  what  Europe  and 
America  consider  a  question  of  honour,  one  blue  pot  should  be 
risked." 

The  month  of  July  in  London  was  unusually  hot  and  for  the 
first  time  we  heard  Whistler  complain  of  the  heat  in  which, 
as  a  rule,  he,  the  true  Southerner,  revelled.  As  we  look  back, 
we  can  see  in  this  a  sign  of  the  increasing  feebleness  which 
his  unfailing  vivacity  and  gaiety  kept  us  from  suspecting  at 
the  time.  He  was  restless,  too,  anxious  to  stay  on  in  his  studio 
and  yet  as  anxious,  for  the  sake  of  Miss  Birnie  Philip  and  her 
mother,  to  go  to  the  country  or  by  the  sea.  More  than  once, 
looking  from  our  windows,  he  said  that  with  the  river  there 
and  the  Embankment  Gardens  gay  with  music  and  people, 
we  were  in  no  need  to  leave  town,  and  we  were  sure  he  envied 
us.  One  day  he  went  to  Amersham,  near  London,  with  some 
thought  of  staying  there  and  painting  two  landscapes  he  had 
been  asked  for. 
1900]  n:R  257 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

"  You  know,  really,  I  can't  say  that,  towards  twilight,  it  is  not 
pretty  in  a  curious  way,  but  not  really  pretty  after  all — it's  all 
country,  and  the  country  is  detestable." 

Eventually  he  took  a  house  at  Sutton  near  Dublin,  persuaded 
Mrs.  and  Miss  Birnie  Philip  to  go  there,  and  then  himself 
promptly  went  with  Mr.  Elwell  to  Holland.  He  told  Mr. 
Sidney  Starr  once  that  only  one  landscape  interested  him,  the 
landscape  of  London.  But  he  made  an  exception  of  Holland. 
When  he  was  reminded  that  there  is  no  country  there,  he 
said, 

"  That's  just  why  I  like  it — no  great,  fuU-blown,  shapeless 
trees  as  in  England,  but  everything  neat  and  trim,  and  the  trunks 
of  the  trees  painted  white,  and  the  cows  wear  quilts,  and  it  is  all 
arranged  and  charming.  And  look  at  the  skies  ! — They  talk 
about  the  blue  skies  of  Italy — the  skies  of  Italy  are  not  blue, 
they  are  black.  You  do  not  see  blue  skies  except  in  Holland  and 
here,  or  other  countries,  where  you  get  great  white  clouds,  and 
then  the  spaces  between  are  blue  !  And  in  Holland  there  is 
atmosphere,  and  that  means  mystery.  There  is  mystery  here, 
too  and  the  people  don't  want  it.  WTiat  they  like  is  when  the 
east  wind  blows,  when  you  can  look  across  the  river  and  count 
the  wires  in  the  canary  bird's  cage  on  the  other  side." 

He  stayed  a  week  at  Domburg,  a  small  sea-shore  village  near 
Middleburg.  With  its  little  red  roofs  nestling  among  the 
«and-dunes  and  its  wide  beach  under  the  skies  he  loved,  he 
thought  it  enchanting  and  made  a  few  water-colours  which  he 
showed  us  afterwards  in  his  studio.  The  place,  he  said,  was 
not  yet  exploited,  and  at  Madame  Elout's  he  found  good  wine 
and  a  Dordrecht  banker  Avho  talked  of  the  Boers  and  assured 
him  that  they  were  all  right,  the  Dutch  would  see  to  that. 
A  visit,  very  little  longer,  to  Ireland  followed.  He  went  full 
of  expectations,  for  as  the  descendant  of  the  Irish  "WTiistlers 
he  was  an  Irishman  himself,  we  have  heard  him  say  more 
than  once.  We  have  a  note  of  his  stay  there  from  Sir  Walter 
Armstrong,  Director  of  the  National  Gallery  of  Ireland  : 
258  ripoo 


THE    BEGINNING    OF    THE    END 

"  He  took  a  house,  '  Craigie '  the  name  of  it,  at  Sutton,  six 
miles  from  Dublin,  on  the  spit  of  sand  which  connects  the  Hill 
of  Howth  \\ith  tlie  mainland  (as  the  Neutral  Ground  unites 
'  Gib.'  with  Spain)  on  the  north  side  of  Dublin  Bay.  There 
he  excited  the  curiosity  of  the  natives  by  at  once  papering 
up  the  windows  on  the  north  side  of  the  house,  for  half  their 
height,  with  brown  paper.  He  came  to  dinner  with  me  one 
night,  stipulating  that  he  should  be  allowed  to  depart  at  9-30  as 
he  was  such  an  early  goer  to  bed.  We  dined  accordingly  at  7, 
and  his  Jehu,  with  the  only  closed  fly  the  northern  half  of  County 
Dublin  could  supply,  was  punctually  at  the  door  at  the  hour 
named.  There  he  had  to  wait  for  three  hours,  for  it  was  not  until 
12-30  that  the  delightful  flow  of  Whistler's  eloquence  came  to  an 
end,  and  that  he  extracted  himself  from  the  deep  armchair  which 
had  been  his  pulpit  for  four  hours  and  a  half.  His  talk  had  been 
great,  and  we  had  confined  ourselves  to  little  exclamatory  appre- 
ciations and  gazes  of  wrapt  adoration  !  I  spent  an  hour  or 
two  with  him  in  the  Irish  National  Gallery.  I  found  him  there, 
lying  on  the  handrail  before  a  sketch  by  Hogarth  (George  II. 
and  his  family)  and  declaring  it  was  the  most  beautiful  picture 
in  the  world.  The  only  other  remark  on  any  particular  picture 
which  I  can  now  recall  is  his  saying  of  my  own  portrait  by  Walter 
Osborne,  '  It  has  a  skin,  it  has  a  skin  !  '  He  soon  grew  tired  of 
Sutton  and  Ireland,  and  when  I  called  at  Craigie  a  few  days  after 
the  dinner,  he  had  flown.  He  did  not  forget  to  send  a  graceful 
word  to  my  wife,  signed  with  his  name  and  Butterfly." 

For  work,  the  visit  was  a  failure.  The  house  was  on  the 
wrong  side  of  the  Bay,  the  weather  was  wretched,  and  only 
Chester,  on  the  way  home,  was  "  charming  and  full  of 
possibilities." 

In  September  the  frequent  meetings  were  continued. 
The  talk,  drifting  here  and  there,  touched  upon  many  subjects 
that  belonged  to  no  particular  period  but  have  their  value 
coming  from  him  and  are  characteristic  of  his  moods  and 
memories.  Thus,  one  evening,  when  Mr.  W.  B.  Blaikie  was 
with  us,  and  the  talk  naturally  turned  to  Scotland,  Whistler 
told  stories  of  Carlyle.  Allingham,  he  said,  was  for  a  time 
by  way  of  being  Carlyle's  Boswell  and  was  always  at  his 
1900]  259 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

heels.  They  were  walking  in  the  Embankment  Gardens  at 
Chelsea,  when  Carlyle  stopped  suddenly  :  "  Have  a  care,  mon, 
have  a  care,  for  ye  have  a  tur-r-ruble  faculty  for  developing 
into  a  bore ! "  Carlj^le  had  been  reading  about  Michael 
Angelo  with  some  idea  of  writing  his  life  or  an  essay,  but 
it  was  Michael  Angelo,  the  engineer,  who  interested  him. 
Another  day,  walking  with  AUingham,  they  passed  South 
Kensington  Museum.  "  You  had  better  go  in,"  AUingham 
said.  "  Why,  mon,  only  fools  go  in  there."  AUingham 
explained  that  he  would  find  sculpture  by  Michael  Angelo, 
and  he  should  know  something  of  the  artist's  work  before 
writing  his  life.  "  No,"  said  Carlyle,  "  we  need  only  glance 
at  that." 

Whistler's  talk  of  Howell  and  of  Tudor  House,  overflowed 
with  anecdotes  that  have  less  to  do  with  his  Ufe  than  that  of 
the  adventurer  for  whom  he  ever  retained  a  tender  regret, 
and  the  group  gathered  about  Rossetti.  He  accounted  for 
Howell's  downfall  by  a  last  stroke  of  inventiveness  when  he 
procured  rare  priceless  black  pots  for  a  patron  who  later 
discovered  rows  of  the  same  pots  in  an  Oxford  Street  shop. 
Whistler  had  a  special  liking  for  the  story  of  Rossetti  dining  at 
Lindsey  Row,  at  the  height  of  the  blue  and  white  craze,  and  be- 
coming so  excited  when  his  fish  was  ser%'ed  on  a  plate  he  had 
never  seen  before,  that  he  at  once  turned  it  over,  fish  and 
all,  to  look  at  the  mark  on  the  back.  Another  memory  was 
of  a  dinner  at  Mr.  lonides',  with  Rossetti  a  pagan,  Sir  Richard 
Burton  a  Mahommedan  if  an}i;hing,  Ladj^  Burton  a  devout 
and  rather  pugnacious  Catholic.  They  fell  into  a  hot 
argument  over  religion,  only  Whistler  said  nothing.  Lady 
Burton,  who  was  in  a  state  of  exaltation,  could  not  stand  his 
silence  :  "  And  what  are  you,  IVIr.  Whistler  ?  "— "  I,  Madam  ?  " 
he  answered,  "  why,  I  am  an  amateur  !  "  He  spent  many 
evenings,  drawing  upon  his  memory  of  the  "  droll  "  and 
"  joyous  "  things  of  the  past ;  telhng  us  more  of  them  than 
260  [1900 


FIGUUK   WITH  KAN 

(.thalk  Dnin'iiiij) 


THE    BEGINNING    OF   THE    END 

•we  can  ever  repeat.  But  the  past  only  brought  him  back 
with  redoubled  interest  to  the  present,  in  which  there  was 
so  much  still  to  be  done. 

In  October,  we  began  to  notice  a  change  in  his  health  and 
to  understand  that  when  he  worried  there  was  excellent  cause 
for  it.  He  was  called  over  to  Paris  once  or  twice  on  business 
connected  with  his  school  and  his  "  chateaux  and  pieds-d- 
terre."  Late  in  October,  after  one  of  these  journeys,  he  was 
laid  up  with  a  severe  cold  at  Mr.  Heinemann's ;  in  November, 
he  was  confined  for  many  days  at  Garlant's.  He  had  other 
worries.  It  seemed  as  if  the  critics  conspired  either  to  ignore 
his  success  at  the  Paris  Exhibition,  or  else  to  account  for  it 
in  the  way  which  to  him  was  most  distasteful.  He  was 
irritated  when  he  read  an  article  on  the  Exhibition,  signed 
D.  S.  M.  in  the  Saturday  Review  devoted  altogether,  he  told 
us,  to  Manet  and  Fantin,  with  only  a  passing  reference  to 
himself  : 

"  Manet  did  very  good  work,  of  course,  but  then  Manet  was 
always  VecoUer, — the  student  with  a  certain  sense  of  things  in 
paint,  and  that  is  all  ! — he  never  understood  that  art  is  a  positive 
science,  one  step  in  it  leading  to  another.  He  painted,  you  know, 
in  la  maniere  noire — the  dark  pictures  that  look  very  well  when 
you  come  to  them  at  Durand-Ruel's,  after  wandering  through 
rooms  of  screaming  blues  and  violets  and  greens — but  he  was  so 
little  in  earnest  that,  midway  in  liis  career,  he  took  to  the  blues 
and  violets  and  greens  himself.  You  know,  it  is  the  trouble  with 
so  many — they  paint  in  one  way — brilliant  colour,  say — they  see 
something,  like  Ribot,  and,  dear  me  !  they  think,  we  had  better 
try  and  do  this  too,  and  they  do,  and,  well,  really  you  know,  in 
the  end  they  do  nothing  for  themselves  !  " 

He  was  even  more  irritated  with  some  of  the  other  art 
critics  who,  in  their  articles,  while  not  ignoring  him,  stated 
that  his  medal  was  awarded  for  The  Little  White  Girl.  The 
statement  was  offensive  to  Whistler  because,  he  said : 

"  The  critics  are  always  passing  over  recent  work  for  early 

masterpieces,  though  all  are  masterpieces :  there  is  no  better,  no 

1900]  261 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

worse,  the  work  has  always  gone  on,  it  has  grown,  not  changed, 
and  the  pictures  I  am  painting  now  are  full  of  qualities  they  cannot 
understand  to-day  any  better  than  they  understood  The  Little 
White  Girl  at  the  time  it  was  painted." 

This  was  an  argument  he  often  used.  Only  a  few  evenings 
after,  he  told  a  man,  who  suggested  that  Millet's  later  work 
was  not  so  good  because  he  was  married  and  had  to  make 
both  ends  meet, 

"  You're  wrong — an  artist's  work  is  never  better,  never  worse, 
it  must  be  always  good,  in  the  end  as  in  the  beginning,  if  he  is  an 
artist,  if  it  is  in  him  to  do  anything  at  all.  He  would  not  be 
influenced  by  the  chance  of  a  wife  or  anything  of  that  kind.  He 
is  always  the  artist." 

He  was  indignant  because  critics  could  not  see  a  truth 
•which  to  him  was  simple  and  ob\nous.  His  indignation  cul- 
minated when  the  Magazine  of  Art  not  only  said  the  Grand 
Prix  was  awarded  for  The  Little  White  Girl,  but  protested 
against  the  award,  because  the  picture  was  painted  before 
the  ten  years'  limit  imposed  by  the  French  authorities,  a 
protest  that  reappeared  in  other  papers.  ^Miistler  could 
not  bear  this  in  silence,  for  it  looked  as  if  an  effort  would 
be  made  to  deprive  him  of  his  first  high  award  from  a 
Paris  exhibition.  The  attack  was  altogether  unwarranted. 
\Miistler's  two  other  pictures  were  his  most  recent,  and,  as 
we  have  pointed  out.  The  Little  White  Girl  was  specially 
invited.  As  soon  as  he  was  well  enough,  he  came  to  us  several 
times,  with  Mr.  William  Webb,  his  sohcitor,  to  talk  the  affair 
over.  As  a  result,  an  apology  was  demanded,  and  made. 
This  belittUng  of  certain  pictures,  in  favour  of  others,  ^ith  its 
inevitable  inference,  always  offended  him,  in  the  end  as  in  the 
beginning.  Only  friends,  however,  knew  what  he  really  felt. 
Mr.  Sargent  gives  us  a  characteristic  instance  of  his  usual 
manner  of  carrying  off  the  offence  before  the  world.  In  his 
later  years,  somebody  brought  him  a  commission  for  a 
262  [1900 


THE    BEGINNING    OF    THE    END 

painting,  stipulating  that  it  should  be  "a  serious  work." 
Whistler's  answer  was  that  he  "  could  not  break  with  the 
traditions  of  a  lifetime,"  and  so,  no  doubt,  confirmed  the  old 
belief  in  his  flippancy. 

Another  worry  he  should  have  been  spared  was  a  dispute 
with  one  of  the  tenants  at  the  Rue  du  Bac,  a  trivial  matter, 
which,  in  his  nervous  state,  loomed  large  and  made  him  un- 
necessarily miserable.  The  carpets  of  an  old  lady  in  the 
floor  above  him  were  shaken  out  of  her  windows  into  his 
garden,  and  it  could  not  be  stopped.  He  tried  the  law,  but 
was  told  he  must  have  disinterested  witnesses  outside  the 
family.  If  he  engaged  a  detective,  a  month  might  pass 
before  she  would  do  it  again.  But  it  chanced  that,  in  the 
very  act  of  beating  a  carpet,  she,  or  a  servant,  let  it  fall  into 
his  garden,  and  his  servants  refused  to  give  it  up.  The  old 
lady  went  to  law  and  his  lawyer  advised  him  to  return  the 
carpet.  It  depressed  him  hopelessly,  and  as  he  had  long 
ceased  to  live  in  the  Rue  du  Bac,  we  could  not  understand 
why  he  should  even  have  heard  of  so  petty  a  domestic 
squabble. 

Ill  and  worried  as  he  was,  our  work  at  intervals  came  to  a 
standstill.  When  he  felt  better  and  stronger,  the  old  talks 
went  on,  but  at  moments  he  seemed  almost  to  fear  that  the 
book  would  prove  an  obituary.  Once  he  told  us  that  we 
wanted  to  make  an  Old  Master  of  him  before  his  time,  and 
we  had  too  much  respect  and  affection  for  him  to  add  to  his 
worries  by  our  importunity.  With  the  late  autumn  his 
weakness  developed  into  serious  illness.  By  the  middle  of 
November  he  was  extremely  anxious  about  himself,  for  his 
cough  would  not  go.  The  doctor's  diagnosis,  he  said,  was 
"  lowered  in  tone  :  probably  the  result  of  living  in  the 
midst  of  English  pictures."  A  sea  journey  was  advised,  and 
Tangier  suggested  for  the  winter.  When  he  was  well  enough 
to  come  to  us,  he  could  not  conceal  his  anxiety.  If  he 
1900]  263 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

sneezed,  he  hurried  away  at  once.  He  fell  asleep  before 
dinner  was  over,  once  or  twice  he  could  hardly  keep  awake 
through  the  evening.  He  would  not  trust  himself  to  the  night 
air  until  Augustine  had  mixed  him  a  hot  "  grog."  Tangier 
did  not  appeal  to  him,  and  he  asked  J.  to  go  with  him  to 
Gibraltar,  stay  awhile  at  Malaga,  and  then  come  back  by 
Madrid  to  see  at  last  the  pictures  he  had  wanted  to  see  all 
his  life.  He  was  hurt  when  J.  represented  that  work  made  it 
impossible  for  him  to  leave  London.  In  December  Whistler 
gave  up  the  struggle  to  brave  the  London  winter,  and  decided 
to  sail  for  Gibraltar,  on  the  way  to  Tangier  and  Algiers,  with 
Mr.  Birnie  Philip,  his  brother-in-law,  to  take  care  of  him. 
His  old  friend.  Sir  Thomas  Sutherland,  Chairman  of  the  P. 
and  O.  Company,  assured  him  of  every  comfort  on  the 
voyage,  and  on  the  14th  of  the  month  he  started  for  the 
South. 


264  [1900 


CHAPTER  XLVII.  IN  SEARCH  OF 
HEALTH.  THE  YEARS  NINETEEN 
HUNDRED  AND  ONE  TO  NINETEEN 
HUNDRED  AND  TWO 

WHISTLER,  away  from  London,  was  unhappy.  At 
Tangier  the  wind  was  icy,  at  Algiers  it  rained,  and 
everywhere  when  it  was  clear  the  sky  was  "  hard  "  and  the 
sea  was  "  black."  Snow  was  falling  when  he  reached  Mar- 
seilles and  he  was  kept  in  his  room  during  a  couple  of  weeks, 
ill  enough  to  send  for  a  doctor  and  only  comforted  when  he 
found  the  doctor  delightful.  Corsica  was  then  recommended 
and  as  "  Napoleon's  Island  "  it  attracted  Whistler.  As  soon 
as  he  was  well  enough,  Mr.  Birnie  Philip  left  him  and  he  sailed 
alone  for  Ajaccio.  Here  he  stayed  at  the  Hotel  Schweizerhof . 
The  weather  at  first  was  abominable,  so  cold  and  the  wind 
so  treacherous  that  he  could  not  work  out  of  doors,  and  he 
felt  his  loneliness  acutely.  Fortunately  he  made  a  friend  of 
the  Curator  of  the  Museum  and  Mr.  Heinemann  joined  him 
for  a  time.  They  loitered  about  together  in  the  quaint 
little  town,  went  to  see  the  house  where  Napoleon  was 
born — "  a  great  experience  " — spent  many  rainy  hours  in 
the  little  caj^  where  Mr.  Heinemann  taught  him  to  play 
dominoes,  a  resource  not  only  then  but  for  the  rest  of  his 
life.  They  played  for  the  price  of  their  coffee,  and  Whistler 
cheated  with  a  brilliancy  that  made  him  easily  a  winner, 
but  that  horrified  a  German  who  sometimes  took  a  hand, 
though  the  naivele  of  Whistler's  "  system  "  could  not  have 
deceived  a  child. 
1901]  265 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

He  was  not  altogether  idle.  He  brought  back  afterwards 
a  series  of  exquisite  pen  and  pencil  drawings  begun  at  Tangier, 
many  now  owned  by  Mr.  Richard  A.  Canfield  and  others  by 
Miss  Birnie  Philip.  A  few  water-colours  were  made,  and 
when  the  weather  gave  him  a  chance,  he  worked  on  his  copper- 
plates. J.  had  grounded  them  for  him  at  the  last  moment  in 
the  damp  cold  of  London,  they  were  packed  in  among  his 
linen,  and  taken  out  in  the  hot  sun  of  Ajaccio.  The  result 
was  that  the  varnish  came  off  in  the  biting — "  All  m}*  dainty 
work  lost,"  he  said — and  it  looked  as  if  the  great  shadow  had 
fallen  upon  our  friendship.  But  he  knew  the  fault  was  his, 
and  the  shadow  passed  as  quickly  as  it  came.  The  closing 
of  the  school  in  Paris  occupied  him  in  Ajaccio,  and  he  was 
arranging  for  a  new  show  of  pastels  and  prints.  One  great 
pleasure  of  which  he  wrote  to  us,  came  from  his  "  new  honours  " 
in  Dresden  where  he  was  awarded  a  gold  medal  and  elected 
"  unanimously  to  the  Academic  Royale  des  Beaux-Arts.'''' 
He  was,  however,  more  tired  than  he  admitted  in  his  letters, 
dwelling  little  on  his  fatigue,  and  insisting  that  the  doctor  in 
Marseilles  had  found  there  was  nothing  the  matter  with  him. 
But  the  truth  is,  that  he  was  never  really  strong  after  the 
autumn  of  1900,  and  even  earlier  than  this  the  doctor  in 
London  warned  his  friends  that  he  was  failing. 

He  was  hopeful  about  himself  because  at  Ajaccio  he 
discovered  what  really  was  the  matter  with  him : 

"  At  first,  though  I  got  through  little,  I  never  went  out  with- 
out a  sketch-book  or  an  etching  plate.  I  was  always  meaning  to 
work,  ahvaj's  thinking  I  must.  Then  the  Curator  offered  me  the 
use  of  his  studio.  The  first  day  I  was  there,  he  watched  me  but 
said  no  tiling  until  the  afternoon.  Then — 'But,  Mr.  Whistler,  I 
have  looked  at  you,  I  have  been  watching.  You  are  all  nerves, 
you  do  nothing.  You  try  to,  but  you  cannot  settle  down  to  it. 
What  you  need  is  rest — to  do  nothing — not  to  try  to  do  any- 
thing. And  all  of  a  sudden,  you  know,  it  struck  me  that  I  had 
never  rested,  that  I  never  had  done  nothing,  that  it  was  the  one 
266  [1901 


ta.iMi'.<i:s  <ir  wiiisii.ei! 


IN    SEARCH    OF   HEALTH 

thing  I  needed  !  And  I  put  myself  down  to  doing  nothing — 
amazing,  you  know.  No  more  sketch-books — no  more  plates. 
I  just  sat  in  the  sun  and  slept.  I  was  cured.  You  know,  Joseph 
must  sit  in  the  sun  and  sleep.     Write  and  teU  him  so.'  " 

Certainly,  he  was  sufficiently  recovered  to  feel  all  his  old 
joy  in  the  "  Islanders,"  into  the  midst  of  whom  he  fell  on  the 
P.  and  O.  steamer  from  Marseilles  : 

"  Nobody  but  English  on  board — and,  after  months  of  not 
seeing  them,  really  they  were  amazing  :  there  they  all  were  at 
dinner — you  know^the  women  in  low  gowns,  the  men  in  dinner 
jackets — they  might  look  a  trifle  green,  they  might  suddenly  run 
when  the  ship  rolled — but  what  matter — there  they  were — men 
in  dinner  jackets,  stewards  behind  their  chairs  in  dinner  jackets — 
and  so  all's  right  with  tlie  country  !  And  do  you  know — it 
made  the  whole  business  clear  to  me  down  there  in  South  Africa — 
at  home,  every  Englishman  does  his  duty — appears  in  his  dinner 
jacket  at  the  dinner  hour — and  so  what  difference  what  the  Boers 
are  doing  ? — all  is  well  with  England  !  You  know,  you  might 
just  as  well  dress  to  ride  in  an  omnibus  ! " 

Whistler  returned  from  Corsica  at  the  beginning  of  May,  in 
excellent  spirits,  so  great  was  his  pleasure  to  be  again  in  his 
studio  and  among  his  friends.  He  came  to  us  on  the  day  of 
his  arrival.  We  give  one  small  incident  that  followed  because 
we  think  it  shows  a  certain  simplicity  in  Wliistler  that  he 
was  careful  to  conceal  from  the  world  it  was  his  amusement 
to  mystify.  It  happened  that  J.  was  in  Italy  and  E.,  that 
very  afternoon,  on  her  way  back  from  the  Continent.  At 
our  door  he  met  our  French  maid  starting  for  Charing 
Cross  and  he  walked  with  her  to  the  station,  while 
she  gave  him  the  news.  Her  account  was  that  every- 
body stared,  which  was  not  surprising.  He,  always  a  con- 
spicuous figure,  was  the  more  so  in  his  long  brown  overcoat, 
and  round  felt  hat,  en  voyage,  while  she  wore  a  big  white 
apron  and  was  en  cheveux.  Moreover,  their  conversation 
was  animated.  She  invited  him  to  dinner,  promising  him 
1901]  267 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

dishes  which  she  knew  from  experience  he  hked,  and  he 
accepted.  He  appeared  a  httle  before  eight.  "  Positively- 
shocking  and  no  possible  excuse  for  it,"  he  said,  "  but — well — 
here  I  am  !  " 

Work  was  taken  up  again  in  the  studio,  our  old  talks  were 
resumed,  his  interest  in  the  Boer  War  grew  rather  than 
lessened,  the  heat  he  had  not  found  in  the  south  was  supplied 
for  him  in  London  in  June  and  July,  and  from  the  heat  he 
seemed  to  borrow  new  strength.  He  came  and  went,  as  of 
old,  between  Garlant's  Hotel  and  Buckingham  Street  until 
he  declared  that  the  cabbies  in  the  Strand  knew  him  as  well 
as  the  cabbies  in  Chelsea.  It  had  ever  been  his  boast  that 
he  was  known  to  almost  every  cabman  in  London,  as,  indeed, 
he  was.  The  tales  of  his  encounters  with  them  were  numerous, 
for,  if  lavish  in  big  things,  he  could  sometimes  be  "  narrow  " 
in  small,  as  Boswell  said  of  Johnson,  and  his  drives  occa- 
sionally ended  in  differences.  The  only  time  we  knew  the 
cabby  to  score  was  once  this  year,  when  J.  was  walking  from 
the  studio  with  Whistler.  "  Kibby,  Kibby,"  Whistler  cried 
to  a  passing  cab,  not  seeing  "  the  fare  "  inside.  The  cabman 
drew  up,  looked  him  over,  and  said — as  London  cabmen  have 
been  heard  to  say  before  and  since — "  Where  did  you  buy 
your  'at  ? — Go,  get  you  'air  cut  !  "  and  drove  off  at  a  gallop. 
Even  Whistler,  safe  inside  an  omnibus,  laughed  at  his  own 
discomfiture. 

We  were  kept  abroad  a  great  part  of  the  summer  of  1901, 
and  bj'  the  time  we  were  all  together  again  in  the  autumn,  it 
was  the  same  old  story.  His  weakness  returned  with  the 
cold  and  the  damp  and  the  fog.  He  reaUsed  the  uselessness 
of  keeping  up  his  apartment  and  studio  in  Paris,  the  state 
of  his  health  making  it  impossible  for  him  to  hve  in  the  one 
or  to  chmb  up  to  the  other,  and  business  in  connection  with 
closing  them  took  him  to  Paris  in  October.  Towards  the 
beginning  of  the  month  he  was  ill  in  bed  at  Garlant's  Hotel, 
268  [1901 


IN    SEARCH    OF    HEALTH 

and  towards  the  end  at  Mr.  Heinemann's  in  Norfolk 
Street.  Even  when  well  enough  to  go  out  he  was  afraid 
to  come  to  us  in  the  evening :  "  Buckingham  Street 
at  night,  you  know,  a  dangerous,  if  fascinating,  place  !  " 
He  would  not  dine  where  he  could  not  sleep,  he  said, 
"  J'y  dine,  fy  dort,"  and  in  our  small  flat  he  knew  there 
was  no  corner  for  him.  Early  in  November,  he  moved 
to  Tallant's  Hotel  in  North  Audley  Street  and  there  he 
was  very  ill  and  more  alarmed  about  himself  than  ever. 
"  This  time,  I  was  very  much  bowled  over,  unable  to  think," 
he  told  us  when  we  went  to  see  him,  and  though  he  made  a 
jest  of  it,  he  was  depressed  by  his  landlady's  recommendation 
of  his  room  as  the  one  where  Lord  - — —  died.  "  I  tried  to 
make  her  understand,"  he  said,  "  that  what  I  wanted  was  a 
room  to  live  in."  He  looked  the  worse,  we  thought,  because 
in  illness,  as  in  health,  he  had  the  faculty  of  inventing 
extraordinary  costumes.  We  remember  finding  him  there, 
after  he  was  able  to  get  up,  in  black  trousers,  a  white  silk 
night-shirt  flowing  loose,  and  a  short  black  coat. 

Illness  made  Whistler  still  more  of  a  wanderer,  and  for 
months  he  was  denied  the  rest  he  knew  he  needed.  From 
Tallant's,  in  November,  he  went  to  Mrs.  Birnie  Philip's  in 
Tite  Street,  Chelsea.  Here  he  never  asked  his  friends,  and 
we  saw  less  of  him.  The  first  week  in  December  he  left 
London  for  Bath  where  he  took  rooms  in  one  of  the  big  cres- 
cents and  where  he  thought  he  could  work.  Besides,  there 
were  shops  in  which  to  hunt  for  "  old  silver  and  things,"  in 
a  vague  way  people  seemed  to  know  him,  and,  on  the  whole, 
Bath  pleased  him.  He  lost  few  excuses,  however,  for  coming 
to  London,  and  was  in  town  almost  all  of  January.  On  some 
days  he  was  surprisingly  well.  He  went  to  the  Old  Masters' 
Exhibition  at  the  Royal  Academy  especially  to  see  the 
Kingston  Lacy  Las  Menpias,  and  he  told  us  the  same 
day: 
1902]  269 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

"  It  is  full  of  things  only  Velasquez  could  have  done, — the 
heads  a  little  weak  perhaps — but  so  much,  or  everything,  that  no 
one  else  could  have  painted  like  that.  And  up  in  a  strange 
place  they  caU  the  Diploma  Gallery  I  saw  the  Spanish  Phillip's 
copy  of  Las  Meniuas  fuU  of  atmosphere  reaUy  and  dim  under- 
standing." 

Ochtervelt's  Lady  Standing  at  a  Spinet  also  interested 
him,  suggesting  a  favourite  theme  : 

"  The  Dutchmen  knew  how  to  paint — they  had  respect  for 
the  surface  of  a  picture,  the  modern  painter  has  no  respect  for 
anything  but  his  own  cleverness  and  he  is  sometimes  so  clever 
that  his  work  is  like  that  of  a  bad  boy,  and  I'm  not  sure  that  he 
ought  not  to  be  taken  out  and  whipped  for  it — cleverness — weU, 
cleverness  has  notliing  to  do  with  art — there  can  be  the  same 
sort  of  cleverness  in  painting  as  that  of  the  popular  officer  who 
cuts  an  orange  into  fancy  shapes  after  dinner." 

There  were  one  or  two  evenings  when  he  risked  the  night 
air  to  come  to  us  and  his  talk  was  as  gay  and  brilliant  as  ever 
— reminiscent,  critical,  "  wicked,"  as  the  mood  took  him, 
and  at  times  serious.  We  always  must  remember  his  earnest- 
ness when  he  recalled  the  seances  and  spiritual  manifestations 
at  Rossetti's,  in  which  he  firmly  believed.  He  could  not 
understand,  he  said,  the  people  who  pretended  to  doubt  the 
existence  of  another  world  and  the  hereafter.  His  own 
faith  was  strong,  though  vague  when  there  was  question  of 
analysing  it.  Probably  he  never  tried  to  reduce  it  to  dogma 
and  doctrine,  and,  in  that  sense,  he  was  "  the  amateur  "  he 
described  himself  in  jest.  If  his  inclination  turned  to  any 
special  creed  it  was  to  Catholicism.  "  The  beauty  of  ritual 
is  all  with  the  Catholics,"  he  always  said.  But  his  work  left 
him  no  time  to  study  out  these  problems  for  himself,  and  his 
own  belief  perhaps  was  stimulated  by  the  mystery  in  which 
it  was  lost. 

On  other  days  London  apparently  was  tiring  him  and  he 
dozed  off  and  on  through  his  \nsits  to  us,  and  came  no  more  at 
270  [1902 


IN    SEARCH    OF    HEALTH 

night.  He  expended  only  too  much  energy  in  sending  some 
old  pieces  of  silver  to  the  doctor  at  Marseilles  and  the  Curator 
at  Ajaccio  who  had  been  kind  to  him.  He  was  full  of  these 
little  courtesies,  and  never  forgot  kindness,  just  as  he  never 
failed  to  show  it  to  those  who  appealed  to  him,  whether  it 
was  to  find  a  publisher  for  an  unsuccessful  illustrator,  or 
a  gallery  for  an  unsuccessful  painter,  or  even,  as  we  know 
happened  once,  to  support  a  morphomaniac  for  months. 

A  shorter  visit  to  town  was  made  solely  to  attend  a  meeting 
of  the  International  Society  because  his  presence  was  par- 
ticularly desired.  This  was  one  of  the  occasions  that  proved 
the  sincerit}'^  and  activity  of  his  devotion  to  the  Society  and 
its  affairs.  It  is  a  satisfaction  that  this  devotion  was  ap- 
preciated and  that  the  loyalty  of  the  Council  was  not  shaken 
during  his  lifetime.  We  have  endeavoured  to  give  some  idea 
of  the  estimate  in  which  he  was  held  by  artists  at  different 
periods  in  his  career  ;  it  must  therefore  be  interesting  if  we 
can  also  explain  the  impression  he  produced  upon  those  who 
came  into  contact  with  him,  or  his  work,  at  the  last  period  of 
all,  and  this  we  cannot  do  better  than  by  quoting  two  members 
of  the  Society  over  which  he  presided  in  his  old  age,  and  to 
the  hour  of  his  death.  We  quote  first  Mr.  E.  A.  Walton,  who 
was  much  with  him  at  the  last  : 

"  You  have  asked  me  to  write  and  t^ll  you  what  I  know  about 
Whistler's  methods.  I  am  afraid  that  more  than  I  can  give  you, 
will  be  expected  from  a  painter  who  knew  Whistler,  and  his  work 
as  well  as  I  did  ;  but  here  is  a  simple  statement  of  a  few  points 
which  have  struck  me.  You  will  notice  that  I  do  not  use  method 
in  the  narrow  sense  of  the  word,  I  do  not  tell  how  Whistler  mixed 
his  paints,  or  what  brushes  he  used,  but  rather  I  use  the  word  in 
its  broadest  sense  meaning  the  general  way  in  which  Wliistler 
approached  his  art. 

"  To  begin  with.  Whistler  was  a  thorough  craftsman  ;   by  that 

I  mean  he  was  completely  master  of  his  material,  and  knew  to 

the  full  its  power  and  also  its  limitations.     This,  I  think,  was  an 

essential  factor  in  his  artistic  success.     Further,  with  regard  to 

iy02]  271 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

his  choice  of  subject,  he  had  the  power  of  finding  subject-matter 
in  everything  around  liim.  His  moods  were  as  varied  as  the  sea- 
sons of  the  year,  and  he  was  possessed  of  a  great  craving  to  express 
himself,  but  he  never  lacked  the  means  to  do  so,  he  always  suc- 
ceeded in  obtaining  ample  motive  in  all  that  encompassed  him 
from  the  shores  of  Valparaiso  Bay  to  the  Alleys  of  Soho.  Indeed, 
he  always  made  his  surroundings  his  own,  and  reflected  them  in 
the  most  direct  way,  perfectly  satisfied  with  what  lay  ready  to 
his  hand. 

"  I  think  it  is  true  to  say  that  Whistler's  method  involved  as  an 
integral  part  a  certain  attitude  of  mind.  This  attitude  rendered 
him  at  once  receptive  of  impressions  (to  use  his  o^\-n  phrase,  he 
loved  Xature  as  her  child,  and  knew  her  as  her  master),  and  at 
the  same  time  it  made  him  rightly  disposed  towards  the  work 
itself,  in  that  it  gave  him  a  true  ideal.  This  state  or  attitude 
was  only  attained  through  long  and  deliberate  study,  it  was 
something  that  Whistler  arrived  at  by  set  intention.  To  this 
attitude  was  added  a  fine  sesthetic  sense  which  was  inborn,  and 
it  was  this  combination  which  formed  his  genius. 

"  Something  of  ^Miistler's  method — its  deliberateness  and  in- 
dependence of  choice— was  explained  to  me  by  \Miistler  himself. 
He  was  talking  one  day  of  his  -nork,  ' If  I  had  been  apprenticed 
to  Tintoretto  .  .  .  '  he  said  musingly,  and  then,  after  some 
speculations  he  added,  '  but  how  fooUshly  people  talk  of  a  Vene- 
tian secret  !  '  My  answer  was,  '  Yes,  indeed.'  '  Ah  !  but  there 
is  a  secret  !  '  retorted  Whistler.  '  \Miat  is  it  ?  '  I  asked.  '  It  is 
being  able  to  go  on,  go  on  each  day  building  up  and  hammering 
more  and  more  into  your  work  just  as  the  coppersmith  works  out 
by  degrees  his  beautiful  shapes  and  surfaces.'  The  habit  of  many 
through  ignorance  is  to  start  afresh  each  day  on  his  canvas  and  so 
to  hit  or  to  miss.  The  hit  even  is  generally  a  very  momentary  im- 
pression of  their  own  feeUngs  and  of  their  subject.  Such  work 
as  this  one  does  not  care  to  see  more  than  once  if  even  that.  One 
might  note,  by  the  way,  that  Whistler's  interpretation  of  the 
Venetian  secret,  '  To  be  able  to  go  on,'  can  also  be  made  the 
interpretation  of  the  secret  of  the  great  master  of  Holland  and 
him,  ^\^listler  admired  above  all  others;  although  ^^Tiistler's 
work  was  more  akin  to  that  of  Velasquez,  and  in  some  respects  a 
contrast  to  Rembrandt's,  it  was  Rembrandt  nevertheless  who 
won  his  chief  devotion.  Personally,  I  should  say  that  the  secret 
of  \Miistler's  own  success  was  that,  in  spite  of  the  distinguished 
272  11902 


IN    SEARCH    OF    HEALTH 

individuality  of  his  art,  he  remained  throughout  ever  the  student, 
ever  looking  for  something  beyond  ;  that  he  was  never  arrive, 
that  he  had  no  superficial  clevernesses,  and  did  not  repeat  him- 
self, never  trading  on  his  successes  but  always  seeking  for  new 
inspiration. 

"  Mere  manner  of  painting  is  often  spoken  of  as  method,  there 
is  really  a  complete  distinction  between  them.  Whistler's 
manner  of  painting  changed  from  time  to  time,  but  his  method, 
his  relationship  to,  and  mode  of  conducting  his  work,  remained 
unaltered  throughout.  The  changes  in  the  manner  of  his  painting 
were  caused  by  liis  great  sympathy  with  the  work  of  his  fellow 
artists.  Even  two  such  extremely  different  men  as  Courbet  and 
his  London  neighbour,  Albert  Moore,  affected  him — and  he  was 
even  influenced  by  the  romantic  type  of  head  evolved  by  Rossetti. 
Whistler's  artistic  wisdom,  however,  was  too  great  to  allow  him 
to  fall  into  anything  like  ease  of  mannerism,  the  common  failing  of 
many  clever  men.  Raeburn  might  be  taken  as  one  of  the  most 
conspicuous  examples  ;  he  produced  quantity  \\'ith  unpleasant 
ease  and  by  the  number  of  his  works  is  he  yet  known  to  us.  One 
only  of  Whistler's  pictures  is  enough  for  a  reputation,  giving  as  it 
does  inspiration  to  the  artist  who  carries  on  the  reputations  of 
the  great  masters  and  establishes  them  in  the  knowledge  of  the 
amateur." 

To  Mr.  Walton's  appreciation,  we  add  that  of  Mr.  Morley 
Fletcher,  who  speaks  more  of  the  technical  side  of  Whistler's 
art,  and  it  is  suggestive  to  compare  the  views  of  Whistler's 
technique  expressed  by  an  artist  of  distinction,  with  those  of 
Mrs.  Clifford  Addams,  who  was  still  the  student  when  she 
formed  her  impressions.     Mr.  Fletcher  writes  : 

"  Apart  from  the  visible  achievement  of  a  Master  in  any 
branch  of  the  Arts,  and  yet  inseparable  from  it,  is  the  legacy  to 
those  who  follow  him  of  a  new  revelation  of  technical  power  or 
resource. 

"  Whistler's  work  stood  conspicuous  and  notable  in  a  time  of 
lost  tradition — a  time  of  rebellions  and  heresies,  or  of  haphazard 
disregard  of  workmanship.  In  all  his  work,  even  to  the  time  of 
his  last  studies,  a  continued  effort  is  shown  toward  the  research 
and  recovery  of  obscured  principles  and  of  their  right  appUcation. 
To  use  his  own  expression,  he  '  carried  on  the  tradition.' 
190a]  11:8  273 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

"  This  research,  as  well  as  the  new  possibilities  he  demonstrated 
are    a  part  of  his  achievement  less  obvious  than  his  known 
successes,  but  fuU  of  significance  and  value  to  aU  who  work  with  the 
instrument  he  used. 

"  One  of  his  salient  principles  in  painting  was  in  the  definition 
of  the  range  of  values  legitimate  to  oQ  paint.  He  held  that  the 
only  possible  and  consistent  use  of  the  material  was  that  com- 
prised within  the  Hmits  of  '  covered '  paint.  Following  the 
tradition  of  such  Masters  as  Velasquez  and  Franz  Hals,  he  was 
opposed  to  any  artificial  enhancing  of  light  tones  or  high  lights  by 
the  glitter  obtained  from  a  broken  surface  of  loaded  paint,  on  the 
ground  that  such  effects  are  variable  with  the  chance  position  of 
the  picture,  and  that  fine  control  or  a  beautiful  treatment  of  the 
material  is  impossible  outside  the  limits  of  simple  painting  with 
the  brush.  He  relied  entirely  on  the  power  of  simple  '  covered  ' 
painting. 

"  Every  kind  of  artifice  and  trick  was  in  vogue  for  the  enhanc- 
ing of  the  apparent  value  of  passages  in  painting  by  the  glitter 
of  broken  and  iridescent  surface,  so  as  to  reach  an  almost  literal 
appearance  of  nature.  WTiistler's  strict  refusal  of  these  methods, 
confined  his  work  at  once  within  a  Umited  and  quiet  range  of 
tones  strangely  at  variance  with  the  style  of  his  time.  He  was 
the  Puritan  of  a  period  of  meretricious  technique. 

"  By  this  limitation  of  the  range  of  values  painting  becomes 
an  extremely  subtle  and  delicate  process.  Within  the  relatively 
small  range  of  luminous  power  obtainable  from  pigments,  whose 
lightest  tone  is  only  that  of  '  covered  '  white  paint,  are  to  be 
expressed  the  relations  and  harmonies  of  the  infinite  range  of 
natural  Ught — an  operation  comparable  in  dehcacy  ^rith  that  of 
the  subtle  control  of  planes  in  low  reUef  in  Sculpture  as  contrasted 
with  reality  in  soUd  natural  form  ;  or,  perhaps,  more  truly 
similar  to  musical  expression.  The  most  delicate  instrument 
becomes  necessary — the  most  perfectly  organised  palette. 

"  Only  by  means  of  a  finely  organised  and  scientific  use  of 
pigments  could  the  perfectly  controlled  and  true  harmonies  of 
the  Nocturnes  have  been  expressed.  They  are  the  rendering  not 
of  natural  facts  but  of  natural  harmonies — the  pictorial  rendering 
of  rhythm  and  harmony  of  natural  effect ;  as  it  were  the  cadences 
of  daylight. 

"  Hifl  palette  was  extremely  hmited.     The  highest  power  of 

yellow  he  allowed  himself  was  Yellow  Ochre.     In  Yellow  he  used 

274  [1902 


IN    SEARCH    OF    HEALTH 

a  descending  scale  of  Yellow  Ochre,  Raw  Sienna,  Raw  Umber  ; 
correspondingly,  in  Red  he  used  Vermilion,  Venetian  Red,  Indian 
Red  ;    and  in  Blue,  Cobalt  and  Mineral  Blue. 

"This  simple  grouping  of  pigments,  without  any  of  the  modern 
resources  of  higher  po\Aer — without  Green  or  Orange  or  Violet — 
constitutes  the  colour  power  of  his  palette. 

"  Simple  as  it  is,  the  expressive  power  of  his  palette  was  due  to 
the  use  he  made  of  white  and  black  which  together  controlled 
every  tone  in  its  entire  range.  He  held  that  no  '  local '  colour 
could  exist  nakedly  in  painting  in  its  actual  or  unmodified  char- 
acter— that  there  could  be  no  brush  mark  or  note  in  a  picture 
of  an  unmodified  or  raw  pigment.  To  him  all  tones  were  modi- 
fications of  grey,  or  of  colour  controlled  by  grey  varying  from 
nearly  pure  white  to  all  but  black.  In  this  system  of  control  he 
used  his  palette — limited  in  range,  but,  in  his  method  of  use, 
under  precise  and  extremely  delicate  control.  It  was  the  perfect 
instrument  for  the  music  he  played  upon  it. 

"  An  extended  power  he  seems  never  to  have  attempted  or 
cared  for.  He  painted  no  picture  of  full  dayhght  tone.  All  his 
work  is  of  the  evening  or  of  equally  quiet  indoor  effect.  He 
kept  his  studio  curtained  to  a  low  tone  of  light.  The  few  pictures 
he  painted  out  of  doors  are  of  deliberately  restrained  range  of 
colour,  but  the  inter-relation  of  tone  and  colour  within  the  limits 
he  adopted,  is  perfectly  true.  Perhaps  the  passage  of  fullest 
power  of  colour  is  the  painting  of  the  two  girls'  heads  in  the 
Symphony  in  White  No.  III. — a  remarkable  passage  of  briUianfc 
and  pure  colour. 

"  That  he  had  diflSculty  with  some  of  his  schemes  of  work  and 
in  some  failed  to  master  his  material  was  evident  from  the  many 
unfinished  portraits  he  left,  such,  for  instance,  as  the  Iris  shown 
in  the  London  Memorial  Exhibition  of  1905. 

"  Perhaps  his  practice  of  working  over  the  whole  surface  of  his 
canvas  at  one  time  was  bound  sometimes  to  lead  to  failure  in  such 
large  work,  while  it  was  essential  to  his  smaller  and  perfectly 
successful  Nocturnes. 

"  In  the  initial  and  in  the  final  stages  of  any  work  such  a 
method  is  a  necessity  and  an  almost  obvious  rule  of  workman- 
ship. The  first  planning  and  the  last  work  of  completion  must  be 
comprehensive  and  must  involve  aU  the  large  relations,  but,  in 
the  intermediate  stages  of  building,  the  need  of  concentration 
upon  separate  elements  would  seem  to  be  equally  insistent. 
1 902]  275 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

^^Tiistler's  unvarying  practice  in  this  respect  has  seemed  to 
explain  the  strange  fact  that  he  never  painted  hands  in  his  por- 
traits, or  else  placed  them  in  such  positions  as  to  make  them  nearly 
invisible.  On  this  account  he  has  been  taxed  with  shirking  or 
avoiding  difficult  problems  of  drawing — an  accusation  most  futile 
to  any  one  acquainted  with  the  rendering  of  form  in  his  many 
dra^^•ings,  and  such  of  his  paintings  as  the  Blacksmith  of  Lyme 
Regis.  A  much  more  reasonable  cause  is  in  his  own  insistent 
demand  that  all  details  or  parts  of  a  picture  must  be  worked 
upon  at  one  time,  a  counsel  of  perfection  that  exceeded 
possibihty. 

"  His  greatest  technical  successes  are  in  the  pictures  painted 
with  the  least  labour — the  Nocturnes.  Miraculous  as  is  the 
achievement  of  the  portrait  of  Hiss  Alexander,  it  lacks  perhaps 
the  sign  of  spontaneous  treatment,  which  is  so  great  a  part  of  the 
poetic  charm  of  the  Xoctumes. 

"  These  paintings  stand  as  a  new  mark  in  the  discovered  region 
of  the  art  of  painting.  In  future  no  student  can  arrive  at  full 
mastery  who  has  not  comprehended  this  last  development  of 
the  Tradition — a  Tradition  no  longer  taught  by  word  of  mouth, 
nor  to  be  found  in  books,  but  none  the  less  visible.  In  its  search 
the  last  leader  was  Wliistler  and  the  last  hint  of  new  direction  is 
in  his  work." 

March  saw  Wliistler  once  more  established  in  Tite  Street, 
but,  as  we  have  said,  he  asked  no  one  while  he  stayed  with 
"  the  Ladies,"  the  name  invariably  by  which  he  spoke  of  his 
mother-  and  sisters-in-law.  There  was  one  almost  clandestine 
meeting  with  Mr.  G.  Sauter,  \\'histler's  desire  to  hear  about 
the  Boers,  to  whom  he  "never  referred,  of  course,  in  the 
presence  of  the  Ladies,"  becoming  too  strong  to  be  endured, 
and  he  could  rely  upon  5Ir.  Sauter  for  both  sympathy  and 
the  latest  news.  It  was  an  interval  of  mystery  in  the 
studio.  No  one  was  invited,  few  were  admitted,  nothing 
was  heard  of  the  work  being  done.  Whistler  always  liked 
to  keep  up  a  certain  effect  of  mystery  in  his  movements, 
but  we  have  never  known  him  to  carry  it  so  far  as  during 
the  first  month  or  so  after  his  return  from  Bath.  At  last, 
J.  was  summoned.  Whistler  would  not  let  him  come 
276  [1902 


IN    SEARCH    OF    HEALTH 

further  than  the  httle  ante-room,  talking  to  him  through 
the  thin  partition,  but  presently,  probably  forgetting,  called 
him  into  the  studio  and  went  on  painting,  and,  to  all 
appearances,  there  was  no  reason  for  any  mystery.  No 
doubt  Whistler  realised  he  had  little  strength  left  and  was 
eager  to  devote  that  little  to  his  work.  But,  even  in  ill- 
health,  he  could  not  live  without  people  about  him,  and  he 
soon  fell  back  into  his  old  ways. 

To  avoid  further  wandering,  for  which  he  no  longer  felt 
equal,  he  took  another  house,  again  in  Chelsea,  where  he 
had  lived  almost  thirty  years;  he  had  been  absent  hardly 
more  than  ten.  Mrs.  and  Miss  Birnie  Philip  went  to 
live  with  him.  The  house,  not  many  doors  west  of  old 
Chelsea  Church,  was  No.  74  Cheyne  Walk,  built  by  Mr.  C. 
E.  Ashbee,  and  it  stood  on  the  site  of  a  fishmonger's  shop 
of  which  Whistler  had  made  a  lithograph.  There  was  a 
spacious  studio  at  the  back  in  which,  in  his  words,  he  returned 
to  his  "  old  scheme  in  grey."  Its  only  drawbacks  were  that, 
unfortunately  for  him,  it  was  on  a  lower  level  than  the 
street,  reached  by  a  descent  of  two  or  three  steps  from  the 
entrance  hall,  and  that  the  rest  of  the  house  was  sacrificed  to 
it.  Two  flights  of  stairs  went  up  to  the  drawing-room  where, 
in  glass-enclosed  cases  running  round  the  room,  he  placed 
his  beautiful  blue-and-white  china.  Kitchen  and  dining- 
room  were  on  this  floor,  but  another  flight  of  stairs  led  to  the 
bedrooms  under  the  eaves.  Almost  all  the  windows  opening 
upon  the  river  were  placed  so  high  and  filled  with  such  small 
panes  that  little  could  be  seen  from  them  of  the  beauty  of 
the  Thames  and  its  shores  so  dear  to  Whistler.  The  street 
door  was  in  beaten  copper  and  the  house  was  full  of  decorative 
touches  which,  he  said, 

"  Make  me  wonder  what  I  am  doing  here  anyhow  ? — the  whole, 
you  know,  a  successful  example  of  the  disastrous  effect  of  art 
upon  the  middle  classes." 

Into  this  house  he  moved  in  April. 

1902]  277 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

He  reserved  his  energy  now  for  his  work  and  went  out 
scarcely  at  all.  "  J'y  dine,  fy  dort "  still  held  good,  and  his 
visits  to  us  were  chiefly  on  Sunday  when  he  came  for  noonday 
breakfast,  sometimes  alone,  sometimes  to  meet  American 
and  other  friends.  He  did  not  even  dare  risk  the  dinner 
given  by  London  artists  this  spring  to  Rodin  who,  however, 
breakfasted  with  him  a  day  or  two  after.  In  connection 
Avith  this  breakfast  we  mention  a  curious  little  detail  that 
shows  how  sensitive  Whistler  was  on  certain  subjects.  Mr. 
Lanteri  and  Mr.  Tweed  came  with  M.  Rodin,  and  this  is 
Whistler's  account  to  us  on  the  same  day: 

"  It  was  all  very  charming.  Rodin  distinguished  in  every 
way — the  breakfast  very  elegant — but — well,  you  know,  you 
will  understand.  Before  they  came,  naturally,  I  put  my  work 
out  of  sight,  canvases  up  against  the  wall  with  their  backs 
tiurned — nothing  in  evidence.  And  you  know,  never  once,  not 
even  after  breakfast,  did  Rodin  ask  to  see  anything,  not  that  I 
wanted  to  show  anything  to  Rodin,  I  needn't  tell  you — but  in  a 
man  so  distinguished,  it  seemed  a  want  of — weU,  of  what  West 
Point  would  have  demanded  under  the  circumstances." 

He  was  hurt  because  it  was  Rodin.  No  doubt  Rodin  thought, 
from  the  careful  manner  in  which  work  was  put  out  of  sight, 
that  he  was  not  expected  to  refer  to  it.  His  opinion  of 
Whistler  we  know,  for  he  has  written  it  to  us  : 

"  Whistler  itait  un  peintre  dont  le  dessin  avail  beaucoup  de  pro- 
fondeurs,  et  celles-ci  furent  prepartes  par  de  bonnes  etudes,  car  il  a 
dil  ctudier  assidiiment. 

"  II  sentait  la  forme,  non  seulement  comme  le  font  les  bons  peinfres 
mats  de  la  maniere  des  bons  sculpteurs.  II  avail  un  sentiment 
extremement  fin,  qui  a  fait  croire  a  quelques  uns  que  sa  base  n'etait 
pas  forte,  mais  elle  etail  an  contraire,  et  forte  et  siire. 

"  II  comprenait  admirablemenl  Vatmosphere,  et  un  de  ses  tableaux 
qui  m'a  le  plus  vivemenl  impressionne,  '  La  Tamise  (barrage)  a, 
Chelsea,'  est  merveilleux  au  point  de  vue  de  la  profondeur  de  Vespace. 
Le  paysage  en  somme  n'a  rien  ;  il  n'y  a  que  cette  grande  etendue 
d' atmosphere,  rendue  avec  un  art  consomme. 

"  Uceuvre  de  Whistler  ne  perdra  jamais  par  le  temps  ;  elle  gag- 
278  [1902 


IN    SEARCH    OF    HEALTH 

nera  ;   car  une  de  ses  forces  est  I'energie,  une  autre  la  dcUcatesse  ; 
mais  la  principale  est  Vetude  du  dessin." 

In  the  studio,  work  was  still  going  on.  In  May,  Whistler 
showed  us  the  portrait  of  Mr.  Richard  A.  Canfield  which  he 
had  just  begun,  Miss  Birnie  Philip  was  sitting  to  him,  he  was 
working  on  the  portrait  of  Miss  Kinsella,  the  Venus,  the  little 
heads,  and  he  was  adding  to  the  series  of  pastels.  He  was 
much  bothered  about  the  show  of  his  prints  and  pastels 
which  M.  Benedite  wished  to  make  at  the  Luxembourg  and 
he  was  anxious  to  hand  over  the  details  to  J.,  who  could  not, 
however,  see  to  them,  as  he  was  away  constantly  this  year. 
Whistler  looked  forward  to  the  show  because  of  the  official 
character  it  would  have,  though  after  recent  purchases  of 
pictures  for  the  Luxembourg  he  said,  "  You  know,  really, 
I  told  Benedite,  if  this  goes  on  I  am  afraid  I  must  take  my 
'  Mummy  '  from  his  Hotel." 

He  had  not  been  many  days  in  his  new  house  before  he 
discovered  another  drawback  which  it  is  to  be  regretted  was 
not  foreseen  for  him.  He  had  hardly  moved  in  before  building 
was  begun  by  Mr.  Ashbee  on  a  vacant  lot  next  door.  "  It 
is  knock,  knock,  knock  all  day,"  Whistler  said,  and  his 
resentment  was  unbounded.  When  he  came  to  us,  he  could 
think  and  talk  of  nothing  else.  In  his  nervous  state  the  noise 
was  a  perpetual  irritation,  and,  worse,  the  feeling  that 
advantage  had  been  taken  of  him  and  that  he  had  not  been 
informed  of  the  nuisance  beforehand  put  him  into  a  violent 
temper.  This  was  the  one  thing  above  all,  the  doctor  de- 
clared, must  be  avoided  as,  excitement  was  bad  for  his  heart. 
There  was  no  mistaking  the  effect  of  this  daily  annoyance 
upon  his  health.  He  hoped  for  legal  redress  and  he  referred 
the  matter  to  Mr.  Webb.  But  the  knocking  continued. 
On  June  17  E.  dined  with  him  at  Cheyne  Walk,  the  one  other 
guest  Mr.  Freer,  who  had  recently  arrived  from  Detroit,  and 
it  seemed  to  her  as  if  Whistler  was  fast  losing  the  good  done 
1902]  279 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

him  by  the  winter's  rest  and  quiet.  Mrs.  and  Miss  Bimie 
Philip  were  both  uneas3%  and  it  came  as  no  surprise  to  hear 
a  few  days  later  that  he  had  left  the  house  in  search  of  repose 
and  distraction  in  Holland,  with  Mr.  Freer  as  his  companion. 
It  was  too  late.  At  The  Hague,  where  he  stayed  in  the  Hotel 
des  Indes,  he  was  dangerously  ill,  at  death's  door.  Mr. 
Freer  remained  as  long  as  he  could  and  Miss  Birnie  PhiUp 
and  Mrs.  WTiibley  hurried  to  take  care  of  him.  The  moment 
was  the  most  critical  he  had  yet  passed.  There  was  no 
suggestion  of  it,  however,  in  the  first  public  sign  he  gave  of 
convalescence.  A  stupid  reporter  telegraphed  from  The 
Hague  that  the  trouble  with  \Miistler  was  old  age  and  that 
it  would  take  him  a  long  time  to  get  over  it.  The  Morning 
Post  published  an  article  that  ^Miistler  thought  had  been 
prepared  in  anticipation  of  death  which,  sparing  him  for  the 
time,  spared  also  the  old  wit.  He  wrote  to  beg  that  the 
*'  ready  wreath  and  quick  biographj^  "  might  be  put  back 
into  their  pigeon  hole  for  later  use  ;  in  reference  to  the 
writer's  description  of  his  person,  he  apologised  for  "  continuing 
to  wear  my  own  hair  and  eyebrows  after  distinguished  con- 
freres and  eminent  persons  have  long  ceased  the  habit ;  " 
and  those  who  read  the  letter  in  print  could  not  imagine  that, 
onh^  a  few  days  previously,  his  letter-writing  in  this  world 
seemed  to  have  come  to  an  end  for  evermore.  It  is  to  be 
remembered  also  because  it  contains  his  last  word  about 
Swinburne,  and  it  is  pleasant  to  find  that  now  the  bitterness 
with  which  he  wrote  the  more  famous  Et  tu  Brute  of  The 
Gentle  Art  had  disappeared.  The  same  article  stated  that 
Swinburne's  verses  inspired  The  Little  White  Girl.  \Miistler 
explained  that  the  lines 

"were  only  -vratten  in   my  studio  after  the  picture  was  painted 
And  the  writing  of  them  was  a  rare  and  graceful  tribute  from 
the  poet  to    the  painter — a  noble  recognition  of  work  by  the 
production  of  a  nobler  one." 
a8o  [1902 


IN    SEARCH    OF    HEALTH 

After  Mr.  Freer  had  gone,  Mr.  Heinemann,  at  Whistler's 
urgent  appeal,  joined  him  in  The  Hague,  a  fortunate  circum- 
stance, as  two  charming  old  spinster  cousins  of  his,  the  Misses 
Norman,  were  able  to  find  for  the  patient  every  sort  of  com- 
fort which  was  naturally  out  of  reach  of  a  stranger.  They 
took  rooms  for  him  near  the  Hotel  des  Indes,  suggested  a 
niu-se,  prepared  food  for  him,  and  interested  The  Hague  artists 
in  his  presence.  Mesdag,  Israels  and  Van  s'Gravesande 
were  attentive.     Afterwards,  Van  s'Gravesande  wrote  : 

"  Je  Vai  beaucowp  aime.  Whistler  malgre  tout  son  quarrelling 
avec  tout  le  monde,  c'etait  un  '  trls  ban  garqon '  et  tout  a  fait  charmant 
entre  camarades.  J''ai  passe  quelques  jours  avec  lui,  il  y  dijd  une 
vingtaine  d'annies,  a  Dordrecht,  nous  y  avons  fait  des  croquis,  des 
promenades  sur  Veau,  Ac.  dhc.  J'en  garde  toujours  un  excellent 
scmvenir.  On  ne  peut  pas  sHmaginer  un  compagnon  plus  gentil 
que  lui,  enjoue,  aimable,  sans  aucune  pretention,  enthousiaste,  et 
avec  cela  travailleur  comme  pas  un." 

Whistler  also  enjoyed  the  society  of  his  doctor — "  the 
Court  Doctor,  quite  the  most  distinguished  in  Holland." 
Mr.  Clifford  Addams  came  for  a  while  from  Dieppe,  and  in 
September  E.  was  in  Holland.  Whistler  was  then  so  much 
better  that  he  made  the  short  journey  from  The  Hague  to 
Amsterdam,  where  she  was  staying,  to  ask  her  to  go  with 
him  to  the  Rijks  Museum  and  look  at  the  Effie  Deans,  which 
he  had  not  yet  seen  in  the  gallery,  as  well  as  the  Rembrandts. 
It  is  not  easy  for  her  to  forgive  the  chance  that  took  her 
away  from  the  Hotel  before  the  telegram  announcing  his  visit 
was  delivered.  She  heard  of  him  afterwards  at  Miiller's 
book  shop,  where  he  had  been  in  search  of  old  paper,  for  which 
they  said  his  demand  in  Amsterdam  had  been  so  great  and 
constant  that  dealers  now  placed  a  fabulous  price  upon  it. 
E.  afterwards  went  to  The  Hague,  where  she  found  him  in 
rooms  that  certainly  in  the  last  hours  of  packing  looked  bare 
and  comfortless,  for  he  had  decided  to  start  for  London  the 
1902]  281 


JAMES  McNeill   whistler 

next  day.  He  had  promised  to  lunch  with  his  doctor,  so 
that  she  saw  only  enough  of  him  to  realise  how  frail  and 
depressed  and  irritable  illness  had  left  him.  His  sisters-in- 
law  told  her  that  the  doctor  said  he  could  keep  well  only 
by  the  greatest  care  and  constant  watchfulness,  that  he 
must  not  be  allowed  excitement,  that  he  must  not  walk 
up  many  stairs. 

Mr.  G.  Sauter  was  more  fortunate  than  E.,  and  we  have 
from  him  his  impressions  of  Whistler  in  The  Hague  when, 
with  the  first  cheerful  days  of  his  recovery,  his  interest  in  life 
seemed  to  revive  : 

"  Realising  the  difficulty  of  conveying  my  vivid  impressions,  I 
have  hesitated  for  so  long  to  give  you  an  account  of  our  experiences 
with  Whistler  during  the  last  days  of  August  and  the  beginning 
of  September  1902,  in  Holland,  soon  after  the  severe  illness,  which 
he  suffered  and  which  brought  forth  the  premature  obituary 
notice  in  a  London  paper,  to  which  the  master  replied  with  his 
own  facile  pen. 

"A  letter  which  I  received  in  the  beginning  of  August  was 
sufficient  proof  that  he  was  convalescent,  and  that  he  had  regained 
his  interest  in  many  affairs,  and  that  he  was  enjoying  The  Hague 
and  the  Hotel  des  Indes,  but  also  that  he  was  longing  for  the 
society  of  friends  from  London.  Towards  the  end  of  August  our 
journey  to  Belgium  and  Holland  brought  us  to  The  Hague,  and 
of  course  our  first  visit  was  to  him. 

"  It  was  indeed  a  pleasure  to  hear  his  gay  voice,  after  he  had 
received  our  card,  calling  down  from  the  top  of  the  stairs,  '  Are 
you  there — just  wait  a  bit — I  will  be  down  in  a  moment.'  In 
a  few  minutes  his  thin,  dehcately  dressed  figure  appeared,  in 
his  face  dehght,  gay  as  a  schoolboy  released  from  school  and 
determined  to  have  an  outing. 

"  He  had  then  removed  to  apartments  a  few  doors  from  the 
Hotel,  but  to  the  latter  he  invited  us  to  lunch.  With  intense  appre- 
ciation Whistler  spoke  of  the  attention  and  consideration  shown 
to  him  by  the  Hotel  people  during  his  illness.  All  was  sun  like 
the  beautiful  sunny  warm  August  day,  and  as  if  to  give  proof 
of  his  statements  about  the  cooking,  management,  and  every- 
thing, in  the  Hotel,  he  ordered  lunch  with  great  care. 
282  [I902 


IN    SEARCH    OF   HEALTH 

"  He  was  full  of  gaiety  and  his  amusement  over  the  obituary, 
and  his  own  reply  to  it,  was  convincing  enough  that  neither  his 
spirit  nor  his  memory  had  suffered. 

"  After  lunch,  Whistler  insisted  on  taking  us  for  a  drive  to  show 
us  the  '  charming  surroundings  '  of  The  Hague  and  the  Bosch, 
We  drove  also  to  Scheveningen.  He  was  full  of  admiration  and 
love  for  The  Hague. 

"  On  the  way  to  Scheveningen  the  real  state  of  his  health 
became  alarmingly  evident.  He  looked  very  ill  and  fell  asleep 
in  the  carriage,  but  to  my  suggestion  to  drive  home  and  have  a 
rest  he  would  not  listen. 

"  It  was  a  glorious  afternoon,  and  the  calm  sea  with  the  little 
white  breakers,  the  sand  with  hundreds  of  figures  moving  on  it, 
and  children  playing  in  gay  dresses,  made  a  wonderful  picture 
to  enjoy  in  his  company. 

"  About  5  P.M.  we  brought  him  to  his  rooms  after  arranging  to 
visit  the  Mauritshuis  together  next  day. 

"About  11.30  next  morning  we  met  in  the  Gallery,  and 
wandered  from  room  to  room.  He  was  aU  alive  and  bright  again, 
and  there  he  showed  particular  interest  in  and  affection  for 
Rembrandt's  Father,  and  spoke  of  it  as  a  fine  example  of  the 
mental  development  of  the  artist,  which,  he  said,  should  be  con- 
tinuous from  work  to  work  up  to  the  end. 

"  I  mentioned  that  we  were  going  to  the  Vieux  Doelen  to  lunch 
to  meet  General  De  Wet ;  his  interest  in  this  announcement  was  in- 
tense, and  I  had  to  promise  to  tell  him  all  about  it  in  the  afternoon. 

"  On  coming  to  the  two  portraits  by  Franz  Hals  he  examined 
the  work  with  undisguised  delight,  but  the  full  disclosure  of  feel- 
ing towards  the  Master  of  Haarlem  was  reserved  to  us  for  the 
next  day. 

"  On  my  saying  '  we  are  going  to  Haarlem  to  morrow,'  Whistler 
promptly  replied,  '  O,  I  might  come  along  with  you.' 

"  In  his  delicate  state  of  health  this  reply  was  startling  indeed, 
and  realising  the  responsibility  of  allowing  him  to  undertake  even 
the  small  journey  away  from  his  rooms,  and  Doctor,  I  repUed, 
'  but  we  are  leaving  by  an  early  train.'  '  0,  then  I  might  follow 
later  on,'  he  finished. 

"  Thus  we  parted,  he  to  his  rooms,  we  to  the  Vieux  Doelen. 

"  About  4  P.M.  I  went  round  to  give  him  an  account  of  my 
meeting  with  De  Wet,  which  aroused  the  greatest  curiosity,  and 
many  questions  I  had  to  face. 
1902]  283 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

"  When  I  asked  him  whether  he  had  seen  the  Generals,  he  said, 
'  You  see,  I  just  drove  round  and  left  my  cards  on  their 
Excellencies.' 

"  But  still  the  journey  to  Haarlem  occupied  his  mind,  and 
before  I  left  him  it  came  out  :  '  Well,  you  are  going  to  Haarlem 
early  to-morrow  ?      Perhaps  I  will  see  you  there.' 

"  I  certainly  would  never  have  dreamt  for  a  moment  that  he 
would  carry  out  what  I  took  for  passing  fancy,  and  intense  was 
my  astonishment  when  next  day  about  noon  at  the  Haarlem 
Gallery  I  saw  W'histler  in  the  doorway,  smilingly  looking  towards 
me.  saying  :  '  Ah,  I  just  wanted  so  see  what  you  are  doing.' 

"  From  this  moment  until  we  took  the  train  at  the  Haarlem 
Station  back  to  The  Hague,  a  nature  revealed  itself  in  its  force 
and  subtlety,  its  worship  for  the  real  and  its  humiUty  before  the 
great,  combined  with  the  experience  of  age,  with  the  enthusiasm 
of  youth. 

"  Hardly  could  I  get  Whistler  away  for  a  small  lunch. 

"  We  wandered  along  the  line  from  the  early  St.  George's 
Shooting  Guild  of  1616  down  to  the  old  women  of  1664. 

"  Certainly  no  collection  would  give  stronger  support  to 
Whistler's  theory  that  a  master  grows  in  his  art,  from  picture  to 
picture,  till  the  end,  than  that  at  Haarlem. 

"We  went  through  the  hfe  with  Hals  the  people  portrayed 
on  the  canvases,  his  relations  with,  and  attitude  towards,  his 
sitters  ;  he  entered  in  his  mind  into  the  studio  to  examine  the 
canvas  before  the  picture  was  started  and  the  sitters  arrived,  how 
Hals  placed  the  men  in  the  canvas  in  the  positions  appropriate  to 
their  ranks,  how  he  divined  the  character,  from  the  responsible 
colonel  down  to  the  youthful  dandy  lieutenant,  and  how  he  revelled 
in  the  colours  of  their  garments  ! 

"  As  time  went  on,  Whistler's  enthusiasm  increased,  and  even 

the  distance  between  the  raihng  and  the  picture  was  too  great  for 

this  intimate  discourse.     All  of  a  sudden,  he  crept  under  the 

railing  close  up  to  the  picture,  but  lo  !    this  pleasure  could  not 

.    last  for  long. 

"  The  attendant  arrived  and  gave  him  in  unmistakable  words 
to  understand  that  this  was  not  the  place  from  which  to  view 
the  pictures. 

"  And  Whistler  crawled  obediently  back  from  his  position,  but 
not  discouraged,  saying  '  Wait — we  will  stay  after  they  are  gone  ' 
— pointing  to  the  other  visitors. 
284  [1902 


IN    SEARCH    OF    HEALTH 

"  Matters  were  soon  arranged  with  the  courteous  Httle  chief 
attendant  down  in  the  hall,  who,  pointing  to  the  signature  in  the 
visitor's  book,  asked,  '  Is  dat  de  grooie  Schilder  '  (Is  that  the  great 
painter  ?)  and  on  my  confirming  it,  pressed  his  hands  together, 
bent  a  little  on  one  side,  opened  his  eyes  and  mouth  wide,  and 
exclaimed  under  his  breath,  '  Ach  !  '     He  was  a  rare  Httle  man. 

"  We  were  soon  free  from  felloe-  visitors  and  watchful  attend- 
ants, and  no  more  restrictions  were  in  the  way  for  Whistler's 
outburst  of  enthusiasm. 

"  We  were  indeed  alone  with  Franz  Hals. 

"  Now  nothing  could  keep  him  away  from  the  canvases, 
particularly  the  groups  of  old  men  and  women  got  their  full  share 
of  appreciation. 

"  He  went  under  the  railing  again  turning  round  towards  me, 
saying,  '  Now,  do  get  me  a  chair.'  And  after  it  was  pushed  under 
the  railing,  he  went  on,  '  And  now,  do  help  me  on  the  top  of  it.' 
From  that  moment  there  was  no  holding  him  back — he  went 
absolutely  into  raptures  over  the  old  women — admiring  every- 
thing— his  exclamation  of  joy  came  out  now  at  the  top  of  his 
voice,  now  in  the  most  tender,  almost  caressirg  whisper — '  Look  at 
it — just  look — look  at  the  beautiful  colour — the  flesh— look  at 
the  white — that  black — look  how  those  ribbons  are  put  in.  O 
what  a  swell  he  was — can  you  see  it  all — and  the  character— how 
he  realised  it ' — moving  with  his  hand  so  near  the  picture  as  if  he 
wanted  to  caress  it  in  every  detail — he  screamed  with  joy,  '  Oh, 
I  must  touch  it — just  for  the  fun  of  it ' — and  he  moved  tenderly 
with  his  fingers,  over  the  face  of  one  of  the  old  women. 

"  There  was  the  real  Whistler — the  man,  the  artist,  the  painter 
— there  was  no  '  why  drag  in  Velasquez'  spirit — but  the  spirit  of  a 
youth,  fuU  of  ardour,  full  of  plans,  on  the  threshold  of  his  work 
oblivious  of  the  achievements  of  a  life-time. 

"  He  went  on  to  analyse  the  picture  in  its  detail. 

"  '  You  see,  she  is  a  grand  person  ' — pointing  to  the  centre 
figure — '  she  wears  a  fine  collar,  and  look  at  her  two  little  black 
bows — she  is  the  Treasurer — she  ''s  the  Secretary — she  keeps  the 
records ' — pointing  at  each  in  turn  with  his  finger. 

"  With  a  fierce  look  in  his  eye,  as  though  he  would  repulse  an 
attack  on  Hals — and  in  contemptuous  tone,  he  burst  out,  '  They 
say  he  was  a  drunkard,  a  coarse  fellow,  don't  you  beUeve  it — they 
are  the  coarse  fellows.  Just  imagine  a  drunkard  doing  these 
beautiful  things  !  ' 
1902]  285 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

"  '  Just  look  how  tenderly  this  mouth  is  put  in — you  must  see 
the  portrait  of  himself  and  his  wife  at  the  Rijks  Museum.  He 
was  a  swagger  fellow.  He  was  a  Cavalier — see  the  fine  clothes  he 
wears.  That  is  a  fine  portrait,  and  his  Lady— she  is  charming, 
she  is  lovely.'  In  time,  however,  the  excitement  proved  too 
much  for  him  in  his  weak  state,  and  it  was  high  time  to  take  him 
away  into  the  fresh  air.  He  appeared  exhausted,  and  I  feared  a 
coUapse  after  such  emotions. 

"  During  my  absence  in  looking  for  a  carriage,  he  went  on  talk- 
ing to  Mrs.  Sauter.  '  This  is  what  I  would  like  to  do — of  course, 
you  know,  in  my  own  way  ' — meaning  the  continual  progress  of 
his  work  to  the  last.  '  O,  I  would  have  done  anything  for  my 
Art.'  It  was  a  great  relief  to  have  him  safely  seated  in  the 
carriage  with  us. 

"  Once  there  he  soon  regained  his  spirits  and,  as  we  had  ex- 
pected to  meet  Mrs.  Pennell  at  the  Gallery  but  looked  in  vain  for 
her,  we  now  drove  from  hotel  to  hotel  in  search  of  her,  and  on  this 
expedition  a  truly  Wliistlerian  incident  happened.  Stopping 
before  one  of  the  hotels,  he  requested  to  see  the  Proprietor,  who 
appeared  immediately  at  the  side  of  the  carriage,  a  tall,  solemn- 
looking  gentleman,  with  a  long  reddish  beard,  bowing  courteously, 
but  the  gentleman  could  give  no  information  about  Mrs.  Pennell's 
arrival  at  his  Hotel.  After  minute  inquiries  about  the  place. 
Whistler  turned  to  him  asking, '  Monsieur,  what  hotel  would  you 
recommend  in  Haarlem  if  you  would  recommend  any  ?  '  to  which 
he  promptly  and  seriously  replied,  '  Monsieur,  if  I  would  recom- 
mend a  hotel  in  Haarlem  I  would  recommend  my  own.'  '  Thank 
you.  Monsieur ;  thank  you,'  responded  Whistler,  touching  his 
hat,  bo\ring  slightly.  And  we  drove  on  soon,  to  arrive  at  the 
Hotel  where  we  intended  to  take  tea,  and  rest. 

"  Soon  we  were  happily  settled  on  our  return  journey,  in  a 
special  compartment,  which  he  was,  in  his  chivalrous  consideration 
towards  ladies,  most  anxious  to  reserve,  as  he  put  it,  '  to  make 
Mrs.  Sauter  comfortable — she  is  tired.' 

"  With  it,  a  day  full  of  emotions,  amusement  and  anxieties 
came  to  an  end — and,  as  it  proved  to  Whistler,  the  last  pilgrimage 
to  Franz  Hals. 

"  It  needed  no  persuasion  to  keep  Whistler  at  home  after  so 
fatiguing  a  day. 

"  But  on  our  return  to  the  Hotel  late  the  next  afternoon,  we 

were  told  that  he  had  called  three  times,  and  finally  left  a  note 

286  [1902 


IN    SEARCH    OF    HEALTH 

asking  us  to  come  round  in  the  morning  and  also  to  bring  him 
news  of  Mrs.  Pennell. 

"  Monday  was  a  jHe  day  for  Holland — the  Queen's  birthday, 
and  the  town  gay  with  flags  and  orange  streamers  and  happy 
holiday  crowds. 

"  I  went  round  early  to  keep  him  company  and  bring  him  the 
news  he  wished  for. 

"  We  sat  at  liis  window  overlooking  merry-go-rounds,  Little  toy 
and  sweet  stalls  and  throngs  of  little  children  in  their  loyal  smart 
frocks. 

"  '  What  a  pretty  sight — if  I  only  had  my  water-colours  here  I 
could  do  a  nice  little  picture,'  he  remarked. 

"  Dr.  Bisschop  had  kindly  arranged  to  take  us  and  Mr.  Bruck- 
mann  to  the  Gallery  of  Mesdag,  and  Whistler  accepted  an  in- 
vitation to  join  us. 

"  There  the  Canalettos  were  of  chief  interest  to  him.  Lunch 
at  a  cafe — another  visit  to  the  Mauritshuis,  and  tea  at  his  rooms 
brought  our  stay  to  an  end." 


"902]  287 


CHAPTER  XLVIII.  THE  END.  THE 
YEARS  NINETEEN  HUNDRED  AND 
TWO  TO  NINETEEN  HUNDRED  AND 
THREE 

WHISTLER  came  back  to  No.  74  Cheyne  Walk,  to  the 
noise  of  building,  to  the  bedroom  at  the  top  of  the 
house — to  the  conditions  against  which  the  doctor's  warning 
was  most  emphatic.  \Mien  we  saw  him  about  the  middle  of 
September,  he  had  been  again  very  ill  and  was  still  confined 
to  his  room.  On  our  next  visit,  within  a  few  days,  he  was 
in  bed,  but  he  had  been  moved  downstairs  to  a  small  room 
adjoining  the  studio, intended,  no  doubt, for  a  model's  dressing- 
room.  In  one  way  it  was  an  improvement,  for  there  were 
no  stairs  and  his  studio  was  close  at  hand  whenever  he  had 
strength  for  work  ;  but,  in  another,  it  was  no  improvement  at 
all,  for  the  one  window  looked  out  upon  the  street  and  the 
noise  of  children  and  traffic  was  added  to  that  of  the  builders' 
knocking. 

Except  in  this  house,  we  never  saw  him  after  his  return 
from  The  Hague.  At  times,  in  the  winter  and  spring,  he 
was  able  to  go  out  in  a  carriage,  but  to  us  he  never  came 
again,  for  the  three  flights  of  stairs  to  our  flat  rose  between 
him  and  us,  an  insurmountable  barrier.  Therefore  we  rarely 
saw  him  quite  in  the  old  way,  there  were  seldom  the  old  long 
and  intimate  talks,  for  he  was  not  often  alone  in  the  studio. 
Miss  Birnie  Philip  was  usually  with  him,  sometimes  sitting  apart 
with  her  knitting,  and  only  rarely  drawn  into  the  conversation. 
]\Irs.  Whibley  was  frequently  there,  and  before  "  the  Ladies  " 
2S8  [1902 


THE    END 

there  were  reservations  in  Whistler's  talk,  for  with  many 
things  "■  the  Ladies  "  were  not  to  be  "  troubled."  This 
involved  a  certain  restraint  in  himself  and  often  caused  a 
sensation  of  oppression  in  his  visitors.  Then  there  was  a 
coming  and  going  of  his  models,  visits  from  his  doctors,  his 
solicitor,  his  barber,  and  many  other  people  who  helped  to 
distract  him.  His  friends  were  devoted,  encouraged  by  him 
and  knowing  how  he  welcomed  any  one  who  came  from  the 
world  without,  which  was  now  inaccessible  for  him  :  Mr. 
Luke  lonides,  oldest  of  all,  Mrs.  Whistler,  Mr.  Walton,  who 
lived  next  door,  Mr.  Sauter,  Mr.  Lavery,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Addams 
his  apprentices,  Mr.  Arthur  Studd  his  near  neighbour  :  they 
all  seemed  to  drift  in  and  out  almost  daily.  He  was  bored 
when  left  alone  and  unable  to  work — even  though  he  had  of 
recent  years  developed  an  extraordinary  passion  for  reading  ; 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  he  was  hardly  ever  lonely  for  he  was 
surrounded  as  he  always  liked  to  be  in  his  studio,  and  yet  he 
seemed  himself  to  feel  the  restraint  of  his  condition  and  to 
grow  restless,  so  that  his  wish  at  this  time  to  rejoin  Mr. 
Heinemann  in  "  house-keeping  "  was  only  too  natural  to  most 
of  us. 

Whistler  was  never  himself  after  his  illness  in  The  Hague, 
though  he  had  intervals  when  a  little  of  his  energy  re- 
turned, and  he  worked  and  hoped.  We  knew  at  once  on 
seeing  him  when  he  was  not  so  well,  for  his  costume  of  invalid 
remained  strikingly  original.  He  clung  to  an  old  fur -lined 
overcoat  which  he  had  long  since  worn  into  shabbiness.  In  his 
younger  years  he  had  objected  to  a  dressing-gown  as  an 
unmanly  concession,  apparently  he  had  not  outgrown  the 
objection,  and  on  his  bad  days  this  shabby,  worn-out  overcoat 
was  its  unsatisfactory  substitute.  Nor  did  the  studio  seem 
the  most  comfortable  place  for  a  man  so  ill  as  he  was.  It 
was  bare,  Avith  little  furniture,  as  his  studios  always  were, 
and  he  had  not  used  it  enough  to  give  it  even  the  air  of  a 
1902]  II  :t  289 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

workshop.  The  whole  house  showed  the  fact  that  illness  was 
reigning  there.  The  hall  had  a  more  unfinished,  more  un- 
settled, look  than  the  entrance  at  the  Rue  du  Bac,  and  it  was 
sometimes  strewn  wth  the  trays  and  odds  and  ends  of  the 
sickroom.  Papers  and  books  lay  on  the  floor  of  the  little 
drawing-room,  in  contrast  to  the  wonderful  array  of  blue  and 
white  in  the  cases.  A  litter  of  things  at  times  covered  the 
sideboard  in  the  dining-room.  Everjrvvhere  you  felt  the 
cheerlessness  of  a  house  which  is  not  really  lived  in.  When, 
during  the  winter,  we  saw  Wliistler  in  his  big,  shabby  overcoat, 
shuffling  about  the  huge  studio,  he  struck  us  as  so  old,  so  feeble 
and  fragile  that  we  could  imagine  no  sadder  or  more  tragic 
figure.  It  was  the  more  tragic  because  he  had  always  been 
so  much  of  a  dandy,  a  word  he  would  have  been  the  first  to 
use  in  reference  tc  himself.  We  recall  his  horror  once  when 
he  heard  a  story  that  represented  him  as  untidy  and  slovenly. 
"  I  !  "  he  said,  "  I,  when  if  I  had  only  an  old  rag  to  cover  me 
I  should  wear  it  with  neatness  and  propriety  and  the  utmost 
distinction  !  "  But  no  one  would  have  suspected  the  dandy 
in  this  forlorn  little  old  man,  wrapped  in  a  worn  overcoat, 
hardly  able  to  walk.  On  his  bad  days,  however,  there  was  not 
much  walking  about,  and  he  lay  stretched  out  on  an  easy 
chair,  talking  little,  barely  listening,  and  dozing.  His  nights 
were  often  sleepless — he  had  lost  the  habit  of  sleep,  he  told  us — 
and  as  the  day  went  on  he  became  so  drowsy  that  it  seemed  as 
if  nothing  could  rouse  him  from  what  was  more  like  a  lethargic 
slumber  than  like  sleep.  Sometimes,  sitting  by  the  table 
where  tea  was  served,  he  would  rest  his  forehead  on  the  edge 
of  the  table,  fall  asleep,  and  remain  like  that,  motionless,  for 
an  hour  and  more.  A  pretty  little  cat,  all  brown  and  gold 
and  white,  that  lived  in  the  studio,  was  often  curled  up  on 
his  lap,  sleeping  too.  His  devotion  to  her  was  something  to 
remember  and  we  have  seen  him  get  up,  when  probably  he 
would  not  have  stirred  for  any  human  being,  just  to  empty  the 
290  [1902 


THE    END 

stale  milk  from  her  saucer  and  fill  it  up  with  fresh.  A  special 
message  was  sent  to  us  later  in  the  winter  to  announce  the 
birth  of  her  first  kittens  that  also  made  the  studio  their 
home  and  became  a  source  of  endless  mild  distraction  to 
the  invalid. 

When  his  good  days  came,  he  liked  to  play  dominoes  after 
tea  and  he  cheated  with  his  accustomed  naivete.  He  often 
kept  J.  for  a  game  and  sometimes  for  dinner  with  himself  and 
Miss  Birnie  Philip  in  the  studio,  the  climb  to  the  dining-room 
being  for  him,  now  and  to  the  end,  out  of  the  question. 
There  were  days  when  he  would  say  he  never  could  get  back 
to  work  again,  but  others  when  he  managed  to  work  with  not 
only  the  old  vigour,  but  the  old  mastery.  He  had  an  Irish 
model,  Miss  Dorothy  Seton,  whose  red  hair  was  remarkably 
beautiful  and  whose  face  Whistler  thought  as  remarkable, 
for  it  reminded  him  of  Hogarth's  Shrimp  Girl.  One  after- 
noon J.  found  him  painting  the  picture  of  her,  with  her  red 
hair  hanging  over  her  shoulders  and  an  apple  in  her  hand, 
to  which  the  title  Daughter  of  Eve  was  eventually  given.  He 
was  walking  up  and  down  the  studio  in  high  spirits,  looking 
almost  strong,  and  he  seized  J.  by  the  arm  in  the  old  fashion 
and  walked  him  up  and  down  too.  "  Well,  Joseph,  how 
long  do  you  think  it  took  me  to  paint  that,  now  ?  "  and  not 
for  many  weeks  had  he  shown  such  animation  as  when  he 
added,  "  It  was  done  in  a  couple  of  hours  this  very  morning." 
So  far  as  we  know,  it  was  the  last  important  picture  he  painted, 
and  it  was,  as  J.  then  saw  it,  an  extremely  fine  example  of 
his  latest  period.  He  must  have  worked  on  it  again,  however, 
for  at  the  Paris  Memorial  Exhibition  the  bloom  of  its  first 
beauty  had  faded  from  it.  Now  and  then  he  worked  on  a 
portrait  of  Miss  Birnie  Philip  and  he  was  anxious  to  continue 
the  portrait  started  a  year  or  so  before  of  Mrs.  Heinemann, 
a  lovely  harmony  which  needed  for  its  completion  only  a  few 
more  sittings,  but,  to  the  world's  loss,  these  could  not  be 
1902]  291 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

arranged.  He  saw  to  the  cleaning  of  the  Rosa  Corder  which 
Mr.  Canfield,  who  was  buying  pictures,  drawings  and 
prints  in  the  studio,  bought  this  winter  for  two  thousand 
pounds  from  Mr.  Graham  Robertson.  Whistler  telegraphed 
for  us  to  come  and  look  at  it  for  the  last  time  in  England, 
"  to  make  your  adieux  to  her  before  her  departure  for 
America."  When  we  arrived  at  the  studio,  he  was  better 
than  he  had  been  since  his  return  from  The  Hague.  He  had 
slept  eight  hours  and  a  half  that  night  and  he  rejoiced  in  not 
being  sleepy.  He  wiped  the  canvas  here  and  there  most 
tenderly  with  a  silk  handkerchief  and  kept  turning  round  to 
ask  triumphantly,  "  Isn't  she  beautiful  ?  " 

Mr.  Canfield  was  sitting  at  this  time  again  for  his  portrait, 
and  during  his  stay  in  London  he  was  very  much  in  the 
studio  where  he  was  always  welcome,  not  as  a  sitter  only, 
but  even  as  a  friend.  He  seemed  almost  to  have  hypnotised 
Whistler,  whom  wx  heard  say  once  that  Canfield  was  the  only 
man  who  had  never  made  a  mistake  in  the  studio.  We  could 
not  help  regretting  this  because  of  Canfield's  notorious  repu- 
tation in  New  York,  and  because  of  the  unpleasant  things 
which  were  being  said  of  Whistler's  tolerance  of  the  man. 
WTiistler  had  been  warned,  but  had  sacrificed  a  friendship  of 
years  in  his  indignation  at  "  a  breath  of  scandal  "  against 
any  one  whom  he  had  introduced  to  "  the  Ladies."  In  the 
early  part  of  1903  we  received  numerous  letters  and  telegrams 
from  correspondents  of  American  papers  in  London,  all 
re-echoing  the  question  in  the  big  New  York  dailies — "  Is 
Whistler  painting  gambler  Canfield  ?  "  Whistler's  condition 
rendered  any  remark  which  might  excite  him  impossible,  and 
everybody  now  hesitated  to  suggest  to  him  that  Canfield  was 
a  very  public  character  to  include  in  one's  private  circle.  Can- 
field's  visits  did  not  cease,  and  the  one  fact  that  reconciled 
us  to  his  presence  in  the  studio  was  that  it  resulted  in  one  of 
WTiistler's  masterpieces.  The  portrait.  His  Reverence,  ranks 
292  [1902 


Tin:  (.:i;i.  i\  iu.ai  k 


THE    END 

undoubtedly  with  The  Master  Smith  of  Lyme  Regis,  and  is 
certainly  the  finest  of  his  later  portraits. 

Whistler  succeeded  in  keeping  up  many  of  his  other  interests. 
He  often  saw  print  dealers  who  came  for  his  prints.  On  two 
memorable  afternoons,  Mr.  David  Kennedy  brought  the 
large  MacGeorge  Collection  of  Whistler's  echings,  which  he  had 
just  purchased  in  Glasgow,  for  Whistler  to  look  over,  and, 
in  some  cases,  we  believe  to  sign  them.  He  went  through 
as  many  as  he  could,  commenting  on  their  state  and  their 
preservation.  There  were  some  he  had  not  seen  for  years, 
and  ]Mr.  lonides,  who  was  present  on  one  of  the  afternoons, 
seemed  to  know  more  about  them  than  Whistler  himself. 
Whistler  soon  tired,  and  was  not  to  be  revived  even  by  the 
bottle  of  American  cocktails  which  Mr.  Kennedy,  to  his  un- 
qualified approval,  also  brought.  Several  times  we  arrived 
to  find  him  going  through  the  accumulations  of  "  charming 
things  "  sent  over  when  the  studio  in  the  Rue  Notre-Dame- 
des-Champs  was  given  up.  Many  that  he  did  not  find  so 
charming,  were,  we  understand,  destroyed  by  him.  On 
other  days  he  read  us  some  of  his  earlier  correspondences — 
all  the  "  wonderful  letters  "  to  the  Fine  Art  Society  during 
the  Venetian  period.  And  once,  tired  though  he  was,  he 
insisted  on  reading  to  us  just  once  more  his  letter  to  another 
dealer,  who  had  threatened  him  with  a  writ  and  whom  he 
warned  of  the  appearance  he  would  make, 

"  with  one  hand  presenting  a  Sir  Joshua  to  the  nation,  with  the 
other  serving  a  writ  on  Whistler.  Well  indeed  is  it  that  the 
right  hand  knows  not  alvays  what  the  left  hand  doeth." 

In  November,  he  sent  the  Little  Cardinal,  which  had  been 
at  the  Salon  the  previous  summer,  to  the  Portrait  Painters' 
Exhibition.  Some  critics  spoke  of  it  as  a  work  already  seen, 
giving  the  impression,  he  thought,  that  it  dated  back  many 
years.  He  wrote  to  the  Standard  to  contradict  this  im- 
1902J  293 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

pression.     We  called  to  see  him  on  the  afternoon  the  letter 
was  written,  and  he  was  in  great  glee  over  it.     He  said  : 

"  The  letter  is  one  of  my  best.  I  describe  Wedmore  as  Pod- 
snap — an  inspiration,  isn't  it  ? — With  the  discovery  of  Podsnap 
in  art  criticism  I  almost  feel  the  thump  of  Newton's  apple  on 
my  head,  and  this  I  have  said.  Heinemann  promises  to  take 
it  himself  to  the  Editor  of  the  Standard,  and  really  the  whole 
thing  has  such  a  flavour  of  intrigue  that  I  do  believe  it  has  made 
me  well  again  !  " 

He  even  planned  to  publish  the  criticism,  his  letter,  the 
answers,  and  his  final  comments,  a  scheme  begun  but, 
caving  to  his  feeble  health,  never  carried  out.  To  an 
exhibition  of  old  silver  at  the  Fine  Art  Society's  he  also 
paid  much  attention.  He  lent  many  of  his  finest  pieces 
and  insisted  upon  their  being  shown  together  in  a  case 
apart,  and  arranged  according  to  his  instructions.  His  silver, 
like  everything  else  belonging  to  him,  was  a  proof  of  his  ex- 
quisite taste  and  faultless  judgment.  It  was  chosen  not 
for  historic  interest  nor  for  rarity,  but  for  elegance  of  form 
and  simplicity  of  ornament.  The  other  collections  in  the 
exhibition  were  set  out  on  red  velvet ;  his,  with  which  he  sent 
some  of  his  blue  and  white  china,  was  placed  on  his  own  simple 
white  table  linen  marked  ^vith  the  Butterfly.  After  we  had 
been  to  the  exhibition,  he  asked  us  for  every  detail : 

"  How  did  the  white,  the  beautiful  napkins  look  ? — didn't 
the  slight  hint  of  blue  in  the  rare  old  Japanese  stand  and  the 
few  perfect  plates  tell  ?— didn't  the  other  cases  seem  vulgar  in 
comparison  ? — and  didn't  the  simplicity  of  my  silver,  evidently 
for  use,  and  cared  for,  make  the  rest  look  hke  Museum  specimens  ? 

He  examined  the  catalogue,  found  fault  with  it  because  the 
McNeill,  of  which  he  was  so  proud,  was  misspelt,  and  he  could 
not  understand  why  there  were  comparatively  fewer  entries 
and  shorter  descriptions  of  his  case,  than  of  others  where 
liistory  supplied  a  more  elaborate  text. 

Notwithstanding  his  state,  he  forgot  none  of  the  old  little 
294  [1902 


THE    END 

courtesies.  WTien,  in  November,  Mr.  James  Guthrie  was 
elected  to  the  Presidency  of  the  Royal  Scottish  Academy, 
he  telegraphed  his  congratulations  and  was  repaid  by  his 
pleasure  when  Guthrie,  still  a  member  of  the  Council  of  the 
International,  telegraphed  back,  "  Warmest  thanks,  my 
President."  On  New  Year's  Daj^  (1903),  we  received  the 
usual  card  of  good  wishes  it  was  his  custom  to  send  to  his 
friends — a  visiting  card  with  greetings  written  by  himself 
and  signed  with  the  Butterfly.  Though  he  could  not  go  to 
the  meetings  of  the  International,  the  business  done  at  each 
had  to  be  immediately  reported  and  when  the  annual  dinner 
was  given  he  considered  every  detail,  even  to  the  point  of 
revising  the  inenu  and  sending  special  directions  for  the  salad. 
One  great  pleasure  was  the  degree  of  LL.D.  conferred  upon 
him  by  Glasgow  University,  at  the  suggestion  of  Mr.  Guthrie 
and  Professor  Walter  Raleigh.  Mr.  D.  S.  IMacColl,  at  their 
request,  we  believe,  and  after  consulting  J.,  approached  him 
first  to  make  sure  that  the  honour  would  be  accepted.  There 
was  a  gleam  of  the  old  "  wickedness  "  when  Mr.  MacCoU 
called.  Whistler  appointed  a  Sunday,  asking  him  to  lunch, 
but  when  he  arrived  at  the  appointed  hour  he  was  sent 
upstairs  to  the  unused  dreary  drawing-room  and  supplied 
with  Reynolds',  a  radical  sheet  adored  by  Whistler  because  of 
its  wholesale  abuse  of  the  "  Islander."     And  AVhistler  said  : 

"  when  at  last  he  was  summoned  to  the  studio,  I  told  him  it  was 
the  paper  that  of  course  he  always  wanted  to  read  at  tlie  Club  but 
was  ashamed  to  be  seen  with  !  And  all  through  lunch  I  had 
nothing  to  say  of  art — I  talked  of  nothing  except  West  Point." 

However,  when  Mr.  MacColl  had  a  chance  to  explain  why 
he  came.  Whistler  expressed  his  pleasure  in  receiving  the 
degree.  We  recall  the  pains  he  took  with  his  letter  of 
acknowledgment  after  the  official  announcement  came  in 
March,  his  concern  for  the  correct  word  and  the  well-turned 
phrase,  his  anxiety  that  there  should  be  no  mistake  in  the 
1903]  295 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

Principal's  title  or  the  honorary  initials  after  his  name.  It 
illustrates  his  indefatigable  care  for  detail  if  we  add  that, 
before  venturing  to  -write  the  address,  he  sent  a  note,  sub- 
mitting it,  next  door  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Walton,  who  were 
Scotch,  he  said,  and  would  know.  Another  pleasure  of  the 
kind  came  from  the  deference  shown  him  by  the  Art  Depart- 
ment of  the  Universal  Exposition  to  be  held  in  the  summer  of 
1904  at  St.  Louis.  Early  in  1903  Professor  Halsey  C.  Ives, 
Chief  of  the  Art  Department,  was  in  London  and  went  with  J. 
to  call  on  WTiistler  and  to  ask  him  to  serve  as  Chairman  of  the 
Committee,  of  which  Sargent  and  Abbey  and  J.  were  members, 
for  the  selection  of  work  by  American  artists  in  England. 
The  invitation  was  also  in  its  way  a  formal  recognition  of 
WTiistler's  position,  and  he  accepted,  though  he  did  not  live 
to  occupy  the  post. 

If  his  last  months  brought  pleasures  to  Whistler,  they  were 
not  without  worries  which  he  was  little  prepared  to  meet. 
News  of  books  about  him,  in  preparation  or  recently  pub- 
lished, caused  him  infinite  annoyance,  especially  as  he  had 
hoped  to  prevent  all  such  enterprises  by  giving  us  his  authority 
for  the  work  to  which  his  illness  was  a  serious  interruption. 
W^e  found  him  one  afternoon  worrying  himself  almost  into  a 
fever  over  the  latest  attempt  of  which  he  had  heard,  and 
unable  to  think  or  talk  of  anything  except  the  insolence  of 
people  who  undertook  to  write  about  him  and  actually 
prepare  a  biography,  -n-ithout  consulting  him  and  his  ^\-ishes. 
As  he  talked,  he  complained  of  pains  in  his  back,  and  his 
restlessness  was  distressing  to  see.  On  another  afternoon,  we 
found  him,  on  the  contrary,  happy  and  chuckling  joyfully  over 
]VIr.  Elbert  Hubbard's  Whistler  in  the  Little  Journeys  series, 
published  from  the  Roycroft  Press.     He  read  us  passages  : 

"  Really  \\ith  this  book  I  can  be  amused — I  have  to  laugh. 

I  don't  know  how  many  people  have  taken  my  name  in  print, 

and,  you  know,  usually  I  am  furious.     But  the  intimate  tone  of 

296  [1903 


THE    END 

this  is  something  quite  new.  What  would  my  dear  Mummy — 
don't  you  know,  as  you  see  her  with  her  folded  hands  at  the 
Luxembourg— have  said  to  this  story  of  my  father's  courtship  ? 
And  our  stay  in  Russia — our  arrival  in  London — why,  the  account 
of  my  mother  and  me  coming  to  Chelsea  and  finding  lodgings 
makes  you  almost  see  us — wanderers — bundles  at  the  end  of 
long  sticks  over  our  shoulders — arriving  footsore  and  weary 
at  the  hour  of  sunset.  Amazing  ! — it  would  be  worth  while,  you 
know,  to  describe  not  the  book  but  the  effect  on  me  reading  it." 

He  was  looking  desperately  ill  the  day  he  told  us  that 
Montesquiou  had  sold  his  portrait,  and  was  not  even  consoled 
by  the  fact  that  Mr.  Canfield  was  the  purchaser  so  that  it 
would,  therefore,  remain  for  the  present  at  least  in  America. 
He  was  the  more  hurt  because  Montesquiou  was  a  friend  and, 
"  you  know,  the  descendant  of  a  long  distinguished  line  of 
French  noblemen."  There  were  unnecessary  worries.  Mr. 
Freer  sent  some  of  Whistler's  pictures  to  the  Winter  Exhibition 
at  the  Pennsylvania  Academy  of  Fine  Arts  in  Philadelphia. 
The  artists,  in  their  appreciation,  awarded  him  the  Academy's 
Gold  Medal  of  Honour,  and  in  order  to  give  the  pictures  the 
place  of  greatest  distinction,  where  they  would  look  best, 
hung  them  before  anything  was  installed,  building  up  a 
screen  for  them  in  the  most  important  room,  and  beginning 
the  numbers  in  the  catalogue  with  them.  For  some  reason 
Mr.  Freer  did  not  approve  of  the  hanging  and  seems  to  have 
misunderstood  the  motives  for  it.  The  secretary  could  make 
no  change.  As  the  incident  was  reported  to  Whistler  he 
fancied  a  slight  in  the  very  arrangement  which  was  meant  to 
give  him  artistic  precedence.  A  similar  incident  occurred  in 
the  Spring  Exhibition  of  the  Society  of  American  Artists  in 
New  York  where,  also,  Mr.  Freer  objected  to  the  place  chosen 
for  Whistler's  work.  Whistler,  as  a  result,  was  disturbed  by 
the  idea  that  American  artists  at  home  were  treating  him  with 
indifference,  or  contempt,  though  this  was  at  the  time  of  all 
others  when  their  acceptance  of  him  as  master  was  complete 
1903]  297 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

and  their  eagerness  to  proclaim  it  publicly  as  great.  Whistler 
went  so  far  as  to  say  that  he  never  wished  work  of  his  to  hang 
again  in  the  Pennsylvania  Academy,  and  in  regard  to  the 
New  York  Exhibition  he  wrote  protesting  to  the  New  York 
papers.  The  agitation  and  excitement  did  him  no  good  and 
in  his  weakness  such  small  worries  were  magnified  into  grave 
troubles.  It  is  the  more  to  be  regretted,  because,  on  all  sides, 
in  America,  he  was  honoured.  The  Sarasate  had  been  bought 
for  the  Carnegie  Institute  in  Pittsburgh,  where  to-day  it  is 
prized  as  one  of  the  most  important  pictures  in  the  gallery, 
and  where  we  are  sorry  to  see  that  it  is  going  the  way  of  some 
of  his  other  paintings,  and  cracking.  The  Yellow  Buskin 
was  in  the  Wilstach  Collection,  Philadelphia,  and  Tlie  Master 
Smith  and  The  Little  Rose  of  Lyme  Regis  in  the  Boston  Museum 
of  Fine  Arts,  and  hardly  an  American  collector  of  note  was 
not  making  every  effort  to  include  ^^Tiistlers  in  his  collection. 
Whistler's  health  varied  so  during  the  winter  that  we  were 
often  encouraged  to  hope.  But  with  the  spring,  hope  lessened 
with  every  visit.  To  consult  our  notes  is  to  reahse  more  fully 
than  at  the  time  how  graduallj-,  but  surely,  the  end  was 
approaching.  The  afternoons  of  sleep  increased  in  number 
with  the  increasing  weakness  of  his  heart.  He  could  not 
shake  off  the  influenza-cold  which  was  dragging  him  down, 
and  he  hved  in  constant  fear  of  infection  from  others  if  any- 
body even  sneezed  in  his  presence.  "  I  can't  risk  any  more 
microbes — I've  had  about  enough  of  mj^  own."  At  times 
his  cough  was  so  bad  that  he  was  afraid  to  talk  and  he  would 
write  what  he  wanted  to  say  ;  it  was  his  tonsils,  he  explained. 
There  were  visits  when,  from  the  moment  we  came  until  we 
left,  he  worried,  first  because  the  windows  w-ere  open,  then 
because  thej'  were  shut,  and  his  impatience  if  the  doctor's 
visit  was  delayed  would  have  exhausted  a  stronger  man. 
J.  dined  with  him  on  May  14,  when  there  was  a  rekindling  of 
the  old  gaiety.  He  showed  the  portrait  of  Mr.  Canfield,  he 
298  [190;; 


THE    END 

played  dominoes  for  hours,  at  dinner,  when  a  gooseberry 
tart  was  served,  he  apologised  with  all  his  old  malice  for  the 
"  Island."  But  after  this  there  was  no  more  gaiety  for  us  to 
record.  A  few  days  later  J.  went  abroad  for  several  weeks, 
and  Mr.  Heinemann  sailed  for  America.  When  he  said 
good-bye  to  Whistler  he  was  entrusted  with  innumerable 
commissions.  He  was  to  find  out  the  truth  concerning  the 
treatment  of  Whistler's  pictures  in  Philadelphia  and  New 
York,  to  discover  who  his  new  unauthorised  biographers 
were,  what  artists  and  literary  people  were  saying,  what 
dealers  were  doing,  and,  when  he  returned,  then  they  would 
"  keep  house  together  again."  This  was  the  moment  when 
Mr.  Heinemann  actually  took  another  flat,  with  the  identical 
arrangements  of  his  first,  in  Wliitehall  Court,  so  that  they 
could  go  back  to  the  old  life  with  no  change.  But  when, 
after  not  very  many  weeks,  he  was  in  London  again,  the  end 
came  before  he  had  a  chance  even  to  see  Whistler. 

Luckily,  while  Mr.  Heinemann  and  J.  were  away,  Mr. 
Freer  arrived  in  London  on  his  annual  visit,  and  he  was  free 
to  devote  himself  to  Whistler  with  whom  he  drove  out  when- 
ever Whistler  had  the  strength.  But  this  was  not  for  long 
and  with  her  visit  to  him  on  July  1,  E.  gave  up  the  possi- 
bility of  hope.  He  was  in  bed,  but,  hearing  that  she  was 
there,  he  sent  for  her.  There  was  a  curious  vague  look  in  his 
eyes,  as  if  the  old  fires  were  all  burnt  out.  He  seemed  almost 
in  a  stupor  and  spoke  only  twice  with  difficulty.  Miss  Birnie 
Philip  referred  to  his  want  of  appetite  and  the  turtle  soup, 
ordered  by  the  doctor,  which  they  got  from  the  correct  place 
in  the  City.  "  Shocking !  shocking  !  "  Whistler  broke  in 
slowly,  and  then  after  a  minute  or  two,  "  You  know,  now  we 
are  all  in  the  City  !  "  Miss  Birnie  Philip  wanted  to  give  tea 
to  E.,  who,  however,  seeing  how  ill  he  was  thought  it  wiser 
not  to  stay  and  after  some  ten  minutes  said  good-bye.  "  No 
wonder,"  Whistler  murmured,  "  you  go  from  a  house  where 
1903]  299 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

they  don't  give  you  any-thing  to  eat."  E.'s  next  visit  was  on 
the  6th.  The  doctor  had  been  with  him,  he  was  up,  dressed, 
and  had  been  out  for  a  drive.  But  he  looked  worse,  his  eyes 
vaguer  and  more  dead,  giving  still  the  impression  of  a  man 
in  a  stupor.  He  said  not  a  word  until  she  was  lea\'ing,  and 
then  the  one  remark  was  characteristic  :  "  You  are  looking 
very  nice." 

Reports  of  his  feebleness  came  to  us  from  others.  M. 
Buret,  the  friend  of  so  many  years,  was  in  London,  and  was 
deeply  moved  by  the  condition  in  which  he  found  WTiistler, 
who,  he  thought,  wanted  to  say  things  when  alone  in  the 
studio  with  him,  but  who  could  not  that  day  utter  a  word. 

On  the  14th  E.  called  again,  and  again  he  was  dressed  and 
in  the  studio,  and  there  were  pictures  on  the  easels.  He 
seemed  better,  though  his  face  was  as  sunken  and  in  his  eyes 
was  that  terrible  vagueness.  Now  he  talked  and  a  touch  of 
gallantry  was  in  his  greeting,  "  I  wish  I  felt  as  well  as  you 
look."  He  asked  about  Henley,  the  news  of  whose  death  had 
come  but  a  day  or  two  before.  He  watched  the  little  mother 
cat  as  she  ran  about  the  studio.  There  was  a  sudden  return 
of  vigour  in  his  voice  when  Miss  Birnie  Phihp  brought  him 
a  cup  of  chicken  broth  and  he  cried,  "  Take  the  damned 
thing  away,"  and  all  his  old  charm  was  in  the  apology  that 
followed,  but,  he  said,  if  he  ate  every  half-hour  or  so  as  the 
doctor  wanted,  how  could  he  be  expected  to  have  an  appetite 
for  dinner  ?  He  dozed  a  little,  only  to  wake  up  quickly  with 
a  show  of  interest  in  everything  and  when,  on  the  arrival  of 
Mr.  Lavery,  E.  got  up  to  go,  fearing  that  more  than  one 
visitor  would  tire  him,  he  asked,  "  But  why  do  you  go  so 
soon  ?  "  and  these  were  the  last  words  he  ever  spoke  to  her. 

When  J.  returned  to  town,  on  the  17th,  he  immediately 
started  for  Chelsea,  but  met  Mr.  T.  R.  Way  who  had  been 
lunching  with  Mr.   Freer  and   from  whom  he  learnt  that 
^Vhistler  and  Mr.  Freer  were  to  go  out  for  a  drive. 
300  [1903 


THE    END 

There  was  no  drive  that  afternoon — no  drive  ever  again. 
The  illness  had  been  long,  the  end  was  mercifully  swift. 
Whistler  was  dying  before  Mr.  Freer  could  reach  the  house 
in  Cheyne  Walk.  On  Thursday  he  had  seemed  much 
better,  had  gone  for  a  drive  and  was  so  well  at  dinner  that 
Mrs.  Whibley  told  him  laughingly  he  would  soon  again  be 
dressing  to  dine.  But  after  lunch  on  Friday  she  was  called 
hurriedly  to  the  studio,  where  Miss  Birnie  Philip  already  was, 
and  she  realised  at  once  how  serious  the  attack  was.  The 
doctor  was  sent  for,  but  all  need  for  him  had  passed. 

The  papers  during  the  next  few  days  showed  the  degree  to 
which  Whistler's  reputation  and  fame  had  grown  with  the 
public.  We  saw  another  side  which  the  public  could  not 
see — the  genuine  affection  and  respect  in  which  he  was  held 
by  those  privileged  to  know  him  more  intimately.  Many 
came  to  us  in  the  first  shock  the  news  gave  them.  M.  Duret, 
his  grief  intense  at  the  loss  of  the  last  of  his  old  comrades — 
Manet  had  gone,  then  Zola,  and  now  Whistler,  with  whom 
the  best  hours  of  his  life  were  spent ;  Mr.  Kennedy,  whose 
business  relations  with  Whistler  had  developed  into  warm 
friendship ;  Mr.  Lavery,  Mr.  Sauter,  Mr.  Harry  Wilson, 
whose  one  thought  was  to  show  their  love  and  reverence  for 
their  dead  Presic^ent.  Other  artists  followed,  others  wrote, 
and  our  sorrow  for  the  friend  we  had  lost  was  tempered  by 
the  satisfaction  of  knowing  how  deep  and  widespread  was 
the  regret  for  the  master  who  had  gone.  Mr.  Heinemann 
returned  from  New  York,  just  too  late  to  see  Whistler  again, 
and  both  he  and  J.  were  at  least  spared  the  sad  memory  of 
Whistler  with  the  hfe  fading  from  his  face  and  the  light 
extinguished  in  his  eyes. 

The  funeral  took  place  on  Wednesday,  July  23.  The 
service  was  held  in  old  Chelsea  Church  to  which  he  had  so 
often  walked  with  his  mother  from  Lindsey  Row.  There 
was  a  comparatively  small  attendance.  The  members  of 
1903]  301 


JAMES  McNeill  whistler 

his  family  who  came  were  his  sister-in-law,  Mrs.  William 
Whistler  and  his  nieces,  Mrs.  Thynne  and  Mrs.  Reveillon. 
The  Society  with  which,  in  his  last  years,  he  had  identified 
his  interests  was  represented  by  the  Council.  Here  and  there 
were  friends,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Edwin  A.  Abbey,  M.  Theodore 
Buret,  Sir  James  Guthrie,  Mr.  John  Lavery,  Mr.  Heinemann, 
Dr.  Chalmers  Mitchell,  Mr.  Jonathan  Sturgis  ;  and  here  and 
there  Academicians,  Sir  Lawrence  Alma-Tadema  and  Mr. 
Alfred  East.  But  ^^^listler,  who  valued  official  recognition, 
was  given  none  at  the  end.  No  one  from  the  American 
Embassy  paid  the  last  tribute  of  respect  to  the  most  dis- 
tinguished American  citizen  who  ever  lived  in  London.  No 
one  from  the  French  Embassy  attended  the  funeral  of  the 
officer  of  the  Legion  of  Honour.  No  one  from  the  German 
Embassy  joined  in  the  last  rites  of  the  member  of  two  German 
Royal  Academies  and  the  Knight  of  the  Order  of  St.  Michael 
of  Bavaria.  Nor  was  any  one  present  from  the  Italian 
Embassy  though  Whistler  was  Commander  of  the  Crown  of 
Italy  and  member  of  the  Academy  of  St.  Luke.  The  only 
body  officially  represented  besides  the  International  was  the 
Royal  Scottish  Academy. 

The  coffin  was  carried  the  short  distance  to  the  church, 
along  the  shores  of  the  river  he  made  his  own.  It  was 
covered  with  a  purple  pall,  upon  which  lay  a  wreath  of  gold 
laurel  leaves  sent  by  his  Society.  The  little  funeral  pro- 
cession that  walked  with  the  coffin  from  the  house  to  the 
church  included  Miss  Birnie  Philip,  Mrs.  Charles  Whibley. 
their  sisters,  brother  and  nephews,  but  none  of  his  own  family-, 
none  of  the  little  group  with  whom  he  had  been  most  intimate 
in  his  last  years.  After  the  burial  service  was  read,  the  pro- 
cession re-formed,  and  the  family,  the  Council  of  the  Inter- 
national and  a  few  friends  went  with  him  to  the  graveyard 
at  Chiswick.  It  was  a  grey,  stormy  summer  day,  and  as  the 
clergyman  said  the  last  prayers  for  the  dead,  and  the  coffin 
302  [190.'5 


U  1[  1  STLKirS  PALETTE 


^^j^J^^^I 

WUISTLEK'S  GRAVE 


THE    END 

was  lowered,  the  thick  London  atmosphere  enveloped  the 
green  enclosure  with  the  magic  and  mystery  that  Whistler 
was  the  first  to  see  and  to  reveal  to  the  world.  The  grave 
was  made  by  the  side  of  his  wife's  under  a  wall  covered  with 
clematis.  A  low  railing,  like  the  trellis  in  the  garden  at  the 
Rue  du  Bac,  with  flowers  growing  over  it,  now  shuts  in  the 
little  unmarked  plot  of  ground  where  Whistler,  the  greatest 
artist  and  most  striking  personality  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
lies  at  rest  in  a  peaceful  corner  of  the  London  he  loved,  not 
far  from  the  house,  and  nearer  the  grave,  of  Hogarth,  who 
had  been  to  him  the  greatest  English  master  from  the  days 
of  his  boyhood  in  St.  Petersburg. 


1903]  303 


APPENDIX 

Few  things  would  have  given  more  pleasure  to  Whistler 
"  as  a  West  Point  man  "  than  the  knowledge  of  the  deep 
impression  he  made  upon  his  fellow  cadets  and  the  vivid 
memory  of  him  they  retain.  For  this  reason  we  have  all  the 
greater  satisfaction  in  printing  the  letters  of  the  distinguished 
officers  who  have  helped  us  in  our  story  of  Whistler's  days  at 
the  Military  Academy,  which,  as  we  have  shown,  he  himself 
remembered  with  special  pride.  The  longest  and  fullest 
account  comes  from  General  Loomis  L.  Langdon,  who  was 
unflagging  in  his  efforts  to  find  and  obtain  material  for  us  : 

"  I  entered  West  Point  in  June  1850,  and  in  June  1851  passed 
my  examination  and  entered  the  '  Third  Class.'  Whistler 
reported  June  3,  1851,  passed  the  examination  for  admission, 
and  was,  of  course,  assigned  to  the  '  Fourth  Class.'  He  was, 
therefore,  in  the  class  just  below  mine. 

"  Whistler  evidently  had  the  experience  of  some  good  school- 
ing. He  had  considerable  knowledge  of  French  and  algebra  and 
a  marked  proficiency  in  English  grammar,  and  he  had  read  much 
of  the  best  English  literature,  so  his  first  year  was  an  easy  task, 
but  his  second  and  third  years  were  miserable  failures. 

"  His  conversational  powers  were  soon  recognised,  as  were  his 
various  accomplishments  and  good  breeding,  while  his  v^itty 
remarks  and  original  views  and  sayings,  often  verging  on  the 
sarcH/Stic,  could  not  fail  to  attract  attention.  But  his  intercourse 
with  the  other  cadets  was,  with  few  exceptions,  confined  to  his  own 
class.  The  distinctions  between  the  different  classes  were  very 
sharply  drawn.  Whistler  was  a  Fourth  Classman  or  a  '  Pleb  ' 
during  his  first  year,  and  nothing  in  his  antecedents,  family, 
character  or  mental  equipment  would  lift  him  into  anything  but 
the  most  formal  intercourse  with  the  youths  of  the  classes  above 
him.     '  Plebs  '  were  mere  '  things,'  sometimes  playfully  spoken  of 

n : u  305 


APPENDIX 

as  '  animals,'  and  often  the  subjects  of  practical  jokes  and 
cowardly  and  disgraceful  '  hazing.'  Such  was  the  case  in  those 
days.  Since  then  a  better  discipline  and  the  amenities  as  well  as 
necessities  of  the  popular  football  game  have,  I  suppose,  broken 
down  some  of  the  barriers  between  the  classes. 

"  There  were  those  who  divined  in  Whistler  the  dawning  of 
an  unmistakable  genius.  But  the  aristocracy  of  the  sword,  that 
shapes  the  destinies  of  nations,  has  no  use  for  a  genius  other 
than  the  Napoleonic.  And  life  at  the  Academy  is  so  fully  filled 
with  professional  work  that  there  is  no  time  for  the  cadets  to 
sympathise  with  a  genius  if  they  would,  or  to  wander  aside  from 
the  hard,  beaten  path  of  routine  duties  into  the  fields  of  the 
fanciful  and  the  artistic.  Unflagging  industry,  self-denial,  con- 
centration to  duty,  impUcit  obedience  to  orders  and  regulations, 
and  proficiency  in  studies  are  the  requirement  for  success  at  West 
Point,  where  no  favouritism  is  shown  to  the  incompetent  through 
family  or  political  influence.  The  standard  of  excellence  adhered 
to  may  be  estimated  by  the  fact  that,  in  those  days  at  least, 
hardly  more  than  a  third  of  those  who  were  admitted  to  the 
Military  Academy  ever  graduated. 

"  That  was  evidently  no  place  for  a  genius.  And  many  a 
man  who  rose  to  distinction  in  after-life  has  had  to  regret  that  he 
was  '  found  deficient '  at  West  Point.  A  remarkable  instance  of 
this  is  found  in  the  case  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe,  the  critic  and  poet, 
who,  after  having  been  appointed  a  cadet  by  the  President  him- 
self, served  as  a  cadet  only  eight  months  and  five  days  when  he 
was  dismissed,  March  6,  1831,  by  sentence  of  a  general  court- 
martial  for  '  gross  neglect  of  duty  '  and  '  disobedience  of  orders.' 

"  As  an  illustration  of  the  lack  of  appreciation  of  the  genius 
in  Whistler,  I  may  mention  the  following  :  As  a  matter  of 
curiosity,  I  asked  a  general  officer,  whose  reputation  as  an  able 
writer  and  man  of  science  is  world  wide,  and  who  knew  Whistler 
well,  '  How  was  Whistler  looked  upon  by  the  older  cadets  ?  ' 
His  answer,  which  reinforces  what  is  said  above,  was  :  '  Well,  he 
was  tolerated.'  Which,  I  imagine,  was  his  way  of  saying  the 
older  cadets  held  Whistler  in  higher  esteem  than  they  held  others 
of  his — the  lower — class. 

"  ^Yhistler,  bound  to  get  out  of  life  all  that  was  to  be  had  in 
the  way  of  enjoyment,  was  never  unemployed.     Like  his  father 
before  him,  he  was  addicted  to  pranks,  not  mahcious,  but  harmless 
to  every  one  except  himself.  .  .  . 
306 


APPENDIX 

"  Whistler  lived  in  the  barracks  near  me.  As  I  took  great 
delight  in  pictures,  not  so  common  as  they  are  now,  and  I  stood 
at  the  head  of  my  class  in  dra^ving  and  painting  and  he  at  the 
head  of  his  class  in  the  same  branches,  we  had  a  common  interest ; 
the  distinction  of  classes  was  never  thought  of  between  us.  He 
was  often  in  my  room  and  there  made  sketches  in  Indian  ink, 
while  he  rattled  on,  now  with  some  droll  story,  and  now  with 
sarcastic  remarks  about  the  administration  of  affairs  by  the  aca- 
demic authorities,  meant  only  for  my  ears.  It  was  always  a  treat 
for  me  whenever  he  came  to  my  room.  Indeed,  we  painted  a  large 
picture  together  ;  he  the  figures  and  I  the  landscape  part.  It  was 
for  my  class-mate,  Cadet  Wright.  Poor  Wright  committed  suicide 
by  throwing  himself  from  a  train  two  years  after  graduating, 
this  not  because  we  had  painted  a  picture  for  him,  but  during  a 
spell  of  what  is  now  called  nervous  depression. 

"  The  battalion  of  cadets  was  divided  into  four  companies  ; 
ABC  and  D.  Whistler  and  I  were  in  '  C  '  company,  and  when 
the  company  was  '  sized,'  or  the  men  arranged  from  right  to 
left  according  to  their  height.  Whistler  was  generally  near  me, 
and  often  right  behind  me,  in  the  rear  rank.  The  little  rascal 
took  advantage  of  this  to  try  and  get  me  laughing  in  ranks  ;  for- 
getting if  I  were  caught  at  it,  I  would  get '  skinned,'  i.e.,  reported 
and  incur  demerit  marks.  Thackeray  was  one  of  our  favourite 
authors,  and  we  two  had  been  reading  Pendennis  at  the  same 
time,  and  not  seldom  discussed  the  characters  that  figure  in  it. 
There  is  one  scene,  near  the  end  of  the  book,  that  he  keenly 
appreciated  and  to  which  he  often  referred.  It  is  where  '  Alias  ' 
(or  Altamont)  escapes  from  the  police  by  scrambling  hastily  out 
of  a  back  window  of  '  Captain  '  Strong's  room,  in  which  also  dwelt, 
on  sufferance,  his  Irish  friend,  an  ex-army  officer,  Captain  Costigan 
the  father  of  '  the  Fotheringay,'  and  sUding,  hand  over  hand, 
down  the  broken,  ramshackle  gutter-pipe.  Whistler  liked  to 
rehearse  old  Costigan's  comments  on  the  means  of  escape  he  had 
suggested  to  '  Alias,'  and  he  took  particular  delight,  occasionally, 
in  whispering  them  to  me  when  we  were  in  ranks  and  required  to 
be  as  silent  as  the  tomb.  At  many  a  '  dress  parade  '  when  we 
were  all  standing  at '  parade  rest,'  as  motionless  and  gravely  digni- 
fied as  the  statues  in  the  halls  of  the  Vatican,  when  to  raise  a 
hand  to  brush  aside  a  fiercely  persistent  mosquito  assailing  the 
helpless  cadet's  nose  was  an  unpardonable  o&'ence,  I  would  be 
day-dreaming  of  home  and  the  blue  waters  of  old  Erie,  as  the  band 

307 


APPENDIX 

marched  slowly  past  our  front  to  the  strains  of  delicious,  soul- 
inspiring  music,  when  a  muffled  whisper  from  right  behind  me,  in 
the  rear  rank,  would  shatter  my  reverie  and  then  I  could  hear 
that  little  imp,  Wliistler,  quoting,  in  a  rich  Irish  brogue,  Captain 
Costigan,  for  my  special  benefit  :  '  I  \\as  reminded  of  that  little 
sthrategem  by  remembering  me  dorling  Emelee,  Lady  Mirabel, 
when  she  acted  the  puart  of  Cora  in  the  plaie  and  by  the  bridge 
in  Pizarro,  bedad  !  ' 

"  The  incongruity  of  such  remarks,  though  not  by  any  means 
novel,  in  a  scene  so  impressive,  where  all  else  was  so  solemnly  in 
earnest,  always  excited  my  risibles,  and  the  effort  to  restrain  my 
laughter  always  drew  from  Whistler  a  chuckle  of  satisfaction. 

'■  Whistler's  room-mate  was  Cadet  Childs,  a  son  of  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Cliilds  of  the  old  First  Regiment  of  Artillery,  a  veteran 
of  the  Mexican  War  and  who  had  died  of  yellow  fever  at  Pen- 
sacola,  Florida.  Whistler  announced  the  important  discovery 
that  Childs  was  properly  the  plural  of  child — ^^•hereupon  he 
dubbed  his  room-mate  '  Les  Enfants.' 

"  A  large  part  of  Whistler's  leisure  time,  during  '  release  from 
quarters,'  was  spent  in  the  rooms  of  his  class-mates  and  friends, 
who  were  in  my  class.  When  thus  visiting  he  was  never  idle,  but 
while  chatting  in  his  witty  and  inimitable  way,  was  busy  making 
for  his  hosts  sketches  in  pencil  or  Indian  ink  of  figures,  single  or 
in  groups,  pecuhar  to  cadet  life,  or  imagined  scenes  from  Dumas' 
and  Hugo's  novels.  The  Three  Chiardsmen,  then  very  popular, 
was  a  favourite  with  him,  and  with  his  class-mate.  Cadet  Vinton, 
who  stood  well  in  dra\nng  and  often  sketched  the  same  subjects 
with  Whistler,  and  then  the  two  compared  their  work  for  the 
entertainment  of  their  common  friends. 

"  Almost  invariably  Whistler  gave  his  sketches  to  his  hosts, 
who  have  preserved  them  to  this  day.  Cadet  Sawtelle  of  my  class, 
and  Cadet  Alexander  Webb  of  Whistler's  class,  both  now  generals 
on  the  retired  list,  stUl  have  in  their  possession  several  of  these 
earlier  and  characteristic  sketches,  while  a  number  are  in  the 
hands  of  the  family  of  Colonel  Black,  who  was  in  my  class  and 
a  life-long  friend  of  Whistler.  He  fought  in  the  Confederate 
army  during  the  'late  unpleasantness,'  became  a  prosperous  iron- 
mine  owner  and  died  some  years  ago  at  Blackville,  S.C. 

"  I  graduated  from  the  Academy  early  in  June  1854,  really 
before  Whistler's  class  came  up  for  examination,  nor  did  I  know 
his  fate  for  a  long  time,  and  then,  much  to  my  deep  regret,'  I 
308 


APPENDIX 

learned  he  had  been  '  found,'  i.e.,  failed,  to  pass  the  examination. 
In  the  official  records  it  is  stated  he  was  '  discharged  June  15, 
1854,  for  deficiency  in  conduct  and  chemistry.' 

"  '  Deficiency  in  conduct '  sounds  badly,  but  really  it  does  not 
imply  the  commission  of  any  very  serious  offences.  Demerit 
marks  were  given  for  the  slightest  deviation  from  the  strictest 
rule  of  conduct,  from  a  spot  of  rust  on  a  musket-barrel  down  to 
having  the  nightmare  during  the  Sunday  morning  services  in  the 
chapel.  A  '  late  '  faUing  into  ranks  was  one  demerit ;  under- 
clothes not  properly  piled  on  shelves,  with  folded  edges  out,  two 
demerits  ;  smoking  six  demerits.  The  offensive  cigarette  and  its 
accompanying  disgusting  trick  of  exhaling  the  smoke  through  the 
nostrils  were  not  known  in  those  days  at  West  Point.  One 
hundred  demerits  during  the  second  year  deprived  the  cadet  of 
his  much-coveted  furlough,  and  two  hundred  in  a  year  caused 
discharge  from  the  Academy.  The  more  serious  offences  were 
reserved  for  a  general  court-martial  which  might  cause  a  dis- 
honourable dismissal  from  the  service. 

"  Colonel  Wheeler,  Professor  of  Engineering  at  West  Point 
some  years  ago,  and  member  of  the  Academic  Board,  told  me  the 
story  of  Whistler's  failure  to  pass  the  examination  in  chemistry. 
Sihca  constitutes  about  seven-eighths  of  the  earth's  surface,  and,  at 
the  examination  of  his  class  before  the  Academic  Board  and  the 
Board  of  Visitors,  Whistler  was  told  to  discuss  the  subject  of 
silica,  one  of  the  simplest  subjects  in  the  whole  course.  Whistler 
began  his  recitation  by  the  astounding  announcement  :  '  Silica  is 
a  saponifiable  gas  !  '  That  finished  him.  It  is  inconceivable 
that  Whistler  did  not  know  better.  But  it  is  easily  believed 
that,  knowing  from  the  weekly  exhibit  of  the  bad  marks  for  his 
daily  recitations,  he  was  sure  to  be  found  deficient,  he  promptly 
and  purposely  made  an  answer  so  magnificently  absurd  that  it 
would  be  crystallised  into  a  tradition  of  Whistler. 

"  I  never  saw  him  again  until  I  met  him  in  1879 — 1\\  enty-five 
years  after  we  left  school.  Then  I  met  him  at  the  Cafe  Florian 
in  Venice.  He  was  then  at  the  zenith  of  his  fame  as  an  artist 
and  was  engaged  in  making  etchings  of  Venetian  scenery.  I 
saw  him  often  on  the  quays,  busy  at  his  work,  and  long  talks 
did  we  have,  recalling  the  old  days,  and  exchanging  bits  of  infor- 
mation relative  to  the  histories  and  fates  of  mutual  friends,  many 
of  whom  had  passed  over  to  the  great  majority. 

"  I  was  very  glad  to  take  him  by  the  hand  again,  glad  of  his 

309 


APPENDIX 

success,  and  pleased  to  see  that  he  had   retained  his  bright, 
attractive  manner. 

"  Let  me  add  that  I  have  been  always  glad  that  I  knew  him 
at  West  Point,  during  what  I  believe  was  the  happiest  part  of 
his  life,  and  that  I  remember  him  as  a  most  genial  and  considerate 
friend  and  as  an  honest  and  fascinating  gentleman,  who  seemed 
always  to  move  in  a  sunny  atmosphere  that  brightened  the  lives 
of  his  friends  and  was  to  them  like  an  inspiration." 

General  D.  McM.  Gregg,  who  was  in  the  class  with  ^^^listler, 
writes  : 

"  Our  class  was  in  number  less  than  the  average  class  of  the 
Academy  of  that  period,  and,  not-i\ithstanding  the  sectional 
differences  that  disturbed  our  country  at  the  time,  and  soon 
thereafter  resulted  in  the  War  of  the  Rebellion,  ours  was  a  sin- 
gularly united  class.  We  were  as  one  in  our  close  friendsliips. 
We  knew  each  other  well  and  intimately.  After  more  than  fifty 
years,  I  can  see  Whistler  as  a  cadet.  He  was  rather  under  size 
for  his  age. 

"  He  was  not  soldierly  in  appearance,  bearing  or  habit.  In 
our  first  year  at  the  Academy,  he  rolled  up  one  hundred  and 
ninety  (190)  demerits.  Two  hundred  would  have  caused  his 
dismissal.  The  bulk  of  his  demerits  were  received  for  being  late 
at,  and  absence  from,  roll-call,  for  inattention  at  drill,  for  un- 
tidiness in  dress,  and  offences  of  such  character. 

"  By  his  class-mates  he  was  sometimes  addressed  as  '  Jimmy,' 
at  others  as  '  Curly,'  this  last  because  of  the  tendency  of  his  hair 
to  curl.  His  wonderful  talent  as  an  artist  had  early  development 
and  recognition.  In  his  intercourse  with  his  fellow  cadets,  he  was 
agreeable  and  companionable.  At  that  time  he  gave  no  indi- 
cation of  possessing  traits  of  character  that  in  later  life  produced 
so  many  antagonisms.  After  he  left  the  Academy,  I  never  had 
the  pleasure  of  meeting  Jimmy  Whistler,  but  I  fully  shared  the 
pride  of  all  his  class-mates,  that  one  of  their  number  had  attained 
such  world-wide  fame  in  his  chosen  profession." 

General  C.  B.  Comstock,  who  graduated  at   the   head   of 
Whistler's  class,  writes  more  in  detail : 

"  We  entered  West  Point  together  in  1851,  and  as  I  try  to 
recall  him,  the  memories  that  present  themselves  are  of  a  vivacious 
likable  little  fellow,  witli  a  near-sighted  habit  of  contracting  his 
310 


APPENDIX 

brows  and  eyes  when  he  looked  at  anything  ;  with  a  fondness  for 
cooking  things  in  his  quarters  ;  and  with  a  great  love  for  drawing. 

"  In  those  days  cadets  had  the  custom  of  taking  potatoes  from 
the  mess  hall  to  their  rooms,  cooking  them  over  the  gaslight  and 
caUing  the  result  hash.  Whistler  was  an  adept  at  this  and  some 
other  forms  of  cooking,  all  of  which  were  prohibited.  He  was 
constantly  making  sketches  -nith  pen  or  pencd,  which  were  given 
to  his  class-mates,  who  prized  them  highly  for  their  beauty,  and 
who  often  asked  them  of  him.  His  ways  diilered  somewhat  from 
ours,  and  we  attributed  this  to  his  residence  abroad.  We  used 
to  call  him  '  Jimmie  '  or  '  Jimmie  Whistler.' 

"  Drawing  seemed  to  be  a  passion  with  him.  One  of  the 
Academic  Board  told  me  later,  that  at  his  examination  they 
used  to  pass  round  Whistler's  text-books  with  great  interest, 
finding  their  margins  illustrated  with  sketches  of  aU  kinds — 
sometimes  with  caricatures  of  themselves.  He  had  a  high  stand- 
ing in  drawing  and  in  French,  but  I  think  he  cared  little  for 
mathematics,  which  was  prominent  in  the  course  at  West  Point. 
He  was  not  very  observant  of  rules  and  regulations,  and  if  I 
recall  it  aright,  sometimes  got  into  trouble  in  consequence. 

"  There  was  at  West  Point  a  small  shop  called  '  Joe's,'  where 
cadets  were  allowed  to  buy  cakes,  &c.,  if  they  had  money  to  do 
so.     I  think  Whistler  used  to  visit  '  Joe's  '  pretty  often. 

"  There  was  another  place,  called  '  Benny  Haven's,'  about  a 
mile  below  the  Point,  where  one  could  get  a  supper  and  stronger 
drinks  than  '  Joe  '  was  allowed  to  furnish.  Visits  to  '  Benny 
Haven's  '  were  usually  at  night  after  '  taps,'  and  if  detected 
were  severely  punished. 

"  I  cannot  clearly  recollect  the  fact,  but  have  the  impression 
that  Whistler  used  to  go  there. 

"  There  were  on  the  Point  two  maiden  ladies  who  were  allowed 
to  give  meals  (to  a  few  cadets)  that  were  better  than  those  supplied 
at  the  mess  hall.  I  think  both  Whistler  and  his  room-mate, 
Francis  L.  Vinton,  of  our  class  (later  Professor  of  Mining  and 
Engineering  at  Columbia  College,  and  now  dead),  at  one  time 
took  their  meals  at  the  old  '  maids' '  as  we  called  them.  Whistler's 
taste  for  delicate  food  would  naturally  take  him  there  in  case 
of  a  vacancy." 

General  Henry  L.  Abbot  sends  us  a  few  lines  : 

"  Whistler  was  a  member  of  the  class  following  mine,  but  I 

311 


APPENDIX 

remember  him  well.  His  jorte  did  not  lie  in  military  or  studious 
lines,  but  his  genius  in  drawing  and  painting  was  appreciated 
throughout  the  corps.  I  remember  a  water-colour  sketch 
showing  the  faces  of  the  fat  boy  in  Pickwick  and  the  old  lady 
when  he  told  her  he  had  seen  IMr.  Tupman  kissing  her  daughter. 
It  was  a  mere  half-finished  sketch,  but  so  wonderfullj'  expressive 
that  it  ^vas  a  masterpiece." 

General  Oliver  Otis  Howard  remembers  Whistler 

"  in  the  next  class  to  mine,  that  which  entered  in  1851.  My 
recollections  of  him  are  rather  dim,  though  I  met  him  on  and  off 
duty  for  nearly  two  years  of  his  academic  life.  It  was  said  of  him 
by  his  class-mates  that  he  paid  more  attention  to  reading  library 
books  than  to  his  studies  proper,  and  that  being  so  absorbed  in 
reading  and  sketching,  he  was  somewhat  careless  of  his  mihtary 
standing. 

"  The  demerit  marks  would  not  indicate  any  moral  obliquity 
as  they  are  given  for  '  lates,'  '  absences,'  and  small  deviations 
from  the  strict  regulations  of  the  Academy.  The  number  of 
demerit  marks  would  run  up  rapidly  wliere  a  young  man  failed 
to  write  excuses  for,  say,  '  clothing  out  of  order,'  '  room  not  in 
proper  poUce,'  and  the  like." 

General  G.  W.  C.  Lee,  also  in  the  class  before  ^^^listle^, 
also  retains  memories  still  fresh : 

"  We  were  cadets  together  at  the  U.S.  Mihtary  Academy, 
West  Point,  N.Y.,  for  three  years  (1851-1854),  and  during  the 
session  of  1852-1853  our  rooms  in  barracks  were  not  far  apart. 
For  this  circumstance  I  am  indebted  to  a  better  acquaintance 
with  him  than  I  should  otherwise  have  had,  as  the  cadets  of  one 
class  had  usually  but  Uttle  to  do  ^lith  those  of  another. 

"  Cadet  WTiistler  was  an  original  genius  and  consequently 
entertaining,  and  ^Aas  much  liked  by  those  who  knew  him.  He 
did  not,  I  think,  take  much  interest  in  the  several  departments  of 
instruction,  with  the  exception,  perhaps,  of  that  of  drawing  in 
wliich  he  easily  stood  first.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  making 
pen-and-ink  sketches  of  whatever  struck  his  fancy  :  and  he  made 
them  with  great  facility — apparently  without  effort.  His  class- 
mates thought  that  his  drawings  showed  a  great  deal  of  talent, 
and,  doubtless,   his   instructors  in  drawing    were  of    the    same 

312 


APPENDIX 

opinion.  After  he  left  West  Point  in  the  summer  of  1854, 
I  met  Whistler  in  Washington  City,  and  had  a  short  conversa- 
tion with  him  about  his  affairs  and  prospects,  but  never  saw  him 
afterwards,  as  I  left  the  city  about  that  time,  and  did  not  return 
until  about  four  years  afterwards." 


313 


OKIGINAL  SKETCH   BY  WHISTLER  FKUM   HARMONY  IX 
BLUE  AXD  GOLD 


INDEX 


Abbey,  i.  192  ;    ii.  132,  151,  296,  302 

Abbey,  Mrs.,  i.  192  ;   ii.  302 

Abbot,  Gen.  H.  L.,  i.  35;   ii.  311 

Abbott,  Jas.,  i.  2 

Academie  Carmen,  ii.  224,  228-46 

Academie  Royale  des  Beaux  Arts,  ii.  266 

Academy,  i.  291 

Adam  and  Eve,  Old  Chelsea,  i.  215,  280 

Addams,  ii.  206,  239,  281,  289 

Addams,  Mrs.  (Miss  Bate),  ii.  204,  206, 

224,  229,  230,  232,  237,  273.  289 
"  Albemarle;'  ii.  87,  134 
Alderney  Street,  i.  307 
Alexander,   Cicely  (Mrs.   Spring-Rice), 
i.  139,  173,  175 
Portrait  of  {grey  and  green),  i.  74, 
103,  125, 150,  171,  172,  175,  181, 
202,  274,  297;   ii.  116,  276 
Alexander,  John  W.,  ii.  21,  151 
Alexander,  May,  Portrait  of,  i.  175 
Alexander,  W.  C,  i.  156,  172,  175,  204, 

216,  219  ;    ii.  34,  120,  225 
Alexander,  Mrs.  W.  C,  i.  172,  175 
Alexandre,  Arsf'ne,  ii.  141,  150 
AUingham,  i.  171  ;  ii.  259,  260 
Alma-Tadema,  i.  81,  99, 121, 210 ;  ii.  49, 

51,  302 
Aman-Jean,  ii.  137,  150,  221 
Amiricaine,  V,  i.  217,  218,  228,  297 

Etching,  215.    See  Franklin 
"American     Architect     and     Building 

News,"  i.  219 
American  Artists,  Society  of,  ii.  297 
Amsterdam  Exhibition,  ii.  89 
Amsterdam  from  the  Tolhuis,  i.  103 
Amsterdam  Rijks  Museum,  ii.  88,  281 
Andalouse,  U  (see  Mrs.   C.   Whibley), 

ii.  158,  251 
Annabel  Lee,  ii.  89 
Ararat,  Mount,  i.  256,  259 
Armitage,  Mrs.,  ii.  226 
Armstrong,  Thomas,  i.  50,  51,  52,  68, 

78,  84,  85,  232,  233,  243  ;  ii.  54 
Armstrong,  Sir  W.,  ii.  258 
Art  and  Art  Critics,  i.  38,  247,  248,  249  ; 

ii.  42,  108 
Art  Institute,  Chicago,  ii.  92 


" Art  Journal,"  i.  145,  166;   ii.  27,  35, 

54,  261 
"Art  Notes,"  i.  216 
"Artiste,  V,"  i.  130 
Astor,  ii.  98 ' 
Astruc,  i.  70 

Portrait  of,  i.  82 
"Athenmum,"  i.  83,  96,  97,  U27,  129, 

144,  199,  212,  215,  218,  312  ;  ii.  100, 

199 
Aubert,  i.  53 

Avery,  i.  132,  140,  299 ;   ii.  6 
Axenfeld,  i.  70 
Portrait  of,  91 


Backer,  i.  168,  262,  264,  266,  267,  269, 
277,  282,  284,  288,  294 ;    ii.  21 

Baertson,  ii.  224 

Balcony,  By  the,  ii.  168 

Balcony,  The,  i.  156,  121,  122  ;    il.  83, 
90 

Balestier,  Wolcott,  ii.  99 

Balleroy,  De,  i.  131 

Baltimore,  i.  1,  37,  39,  40 

Banks,  Eldon,  ii.  188,  191 

"Baronet  and  the  Butter  fly, iThc,"  iL  197, 
198,  199,  224 

Barr,  Miss,  Portrait  of,  ii.  170 

Barrie,  ii.  91 

Barrington,  Mrs.,  i.  50 

Barthe,  i.  108 

Bastien-Lepage,  ii.  31,  219 

Battersea  (Symphony),  ii.  220 

Battersea  Bridge,  i.  126 

Battersea  Bridge,  Old,  i.   140,  287 

(Blue  and   Silver,  later   Blue   and 
Gold),  i.  159, 160,  212,  228,  234, 
236,  239,  240  ;   ii.  59 
(Broum  and  Silver),  i.  129;   ii.  124 

Baudelaire,  i.  66,  98,  116,  131,  144 

Bauer,  ii.  222 

Bavarian  Royal  Academy,  ii.  88 

Bayliss,  Wyke,  ii.  48,  70-73 

Beardsley,  ii.  137,  139-41,  184,  222 

Beam,  Comtesse  de.  Portrait  of.  i.  74 

Beaux,  Cecilia,  ii.  221 


315 


INDEX 


Beck,  ii.  131 

Becquet,  i.  54,  70;    ii.  213 
Portrait  oj,  i.  101 

Beggars,  The,  i.  282,  284  ;   ii.  84 

Belfont,  ii.  134,  135,  142,  159  ■ 

Benedictine  Monks,  i.  29 

Benedite,  i.  68,  76 

Benham,  Capt.,  i.  41,  43,  44,  46 

Benham,  Major  H.  H.,  i.  46 

Bemers  Street  Gallery,  i.  97,  129,  157 

Bernhardt,  Sarah,  i.  260 

Besnard,  ii.  222 

Beurdeley,  llaitre,  ii.   104,  196 

Bibi  Lalouette,  i.  55,  57,  70,  72 

Bieritadt,  i.  140 

Bigham,  ii.  188-90 

Billingsgate,  i.  152,  257  ;   ii.  81 

Blaas,  i.  267 

Black.  Col.,  ii.  308 

Black  Lion  Wharf,  i.  84,  92,  93,  97,  280, 
281  ;   ii.  168 

Blackburn,  ii.  98 

Blaikie,  ii.  259 

Blanche,  i.  202  ;   ii.  221 

Blind,  Jlr.  and  Mrs.,  i.  115 

Blomfield,  ii.  98 

Blott,  i.  225,  226 

Blouet,  ii.  23 

Blue  and  Gold,  ii.  59,  63 

Blue  airl,  i.  258.     See  Elinor  Leland; 

also  \A"aller 
Blue   Wave,  The,  L  96,   133,  312;    ii 

124,  127 
Blum,  i.  267,  270 
Boehm,  i.  212,  251,  260 
Boisbaudran,  i.  49,  66 
Boldini,  ii.  150,  193,  195,  221 
Bonnat,  i.  314  ;   ii.  51 
Bonvin,  i.  75,  82 
"Book  oj  the  Artists,"  i.  140 
"Book  of  Scoundrels,"  ii.  183 
Boot,  Miss,  i.  90 

Boston  Memorial  E.xhibition,  i.  28 
Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  ii.  298 
Boucher's  Diana,  copy  of,  i.  73 
Boughton,  i.  80,  83,  159,  190,  206,  213 
Bouguereau,  i.  314  ;    ii.  51 
Bourgeois,  ii.  116 
Bowen,  i.  232,  240,  241 
Bo.icall,  Sir  Wm.,  i.  24,  25,  76,  158 
Eracquemond,  i.  68,  102,  115,  116,  131, 

Breck,  Adjt.-Gen.,  i.  43 

Bridge,  The,  i.  281,  282 

'■British  Architect,"  i.  292 

British  Artists'  Exhibition,  i.  287 ;  ii.  56 

57,  68 
British  Artists,  the,  ii.  33,  43,    47-74, 

316 


British  Museum,  i.  1U4,  154 
"Broad  Bridge,  The,"  i.  216 
Bronson,  Jlrs.,  i.  266,  267,  273,'277 
Bronson,  Miss  E.,  i.  263,  266      * 
Brooklyn  Museum,  i.  176 
Brooks,  i.  265,  266,  268,  288 
Brown,  Ernest  G.,  i.  257,  291  ;   ii.  204 
Brown,  Prof.  Fred.,  ii.  183 
Brown,  Madox,  i.  115,  158 
Brownell,  i.  250,  314 
Browning,  Barrett,  i.  265 
Browning,  Robert,  i.  267,  273 
Bruckmann,  Dr.,  ii.  287 
Brunei,  i.  107 
Bunney,  i.  267 
Burckhardt,  Count,  i.  99,  100 
Burgomaster  Six,  The,  i.  281 
Burlington  Fine  Arts  Club.  i.  143 
Burne-Jones,  i.  112,  153,  163,  203,  210, 

211,  233,  239,  242,  244,  245,  291 

ii.  13,  51,  59 
Burne-Jones,  Lady,  i.  232,  239 
Burr,  John,  ii.  57,  66 
Burton,  i.  243  ;   ii.  260 
Burton,  Lady,  ii.  260 
Burty,  i.  141,  144 
Butler,  i.  269 

Butterfly,  The,  i.   125,   126,   164,   171, 
179,  247,  310,  311;   u.  66,  106, 
259 
Company  of,  ii.  199,  200,  201,  252 
Buysse,  ii.  225 


Caba>'el,  i.  314 

Cambridge  University  Art  Society,  ii.  43 

Campbell,  Lady  Archibald,  i.  191,  222, 

304-6 ;   ii.  24,  28,  88,  90 

Portrait  of,  see  Yellow  Buskin 

Campbell,  Lady  Colin,  i.  191 

Portrait  of  (Ivory   and    While),  ii. 
63 
Canaletto,  i.  145,  263;   ii.  21,  178    179 

287 
Canfield,  i.  228,  272 ;   ii.  266,  292.  297, 
298 
Portrait  of,  ii.  279 
Caravaggio,  ii.  179 
Carlisle,  i.  113 

Carlyle,   i.    103.    170,    171,    174,    234  ; 
ii.  36,  116,  259,  260,  314 
Portrait  of  {Black   and   Grey,  No. 
2),  i.  74.  125,  138,  172.  212,  226, 
234,  238,  250,  313.  315;    ii.   3, 
93,  114,  118,  120,  131 
Carmen,  ii.  207 
Carmen  Rossi,  Madame,  ii.   203,  228. 

230,  239 
Carnegie  Institute,  Pittsburg,  ii.  298 


INDEX 


Carriere,  ii.  222 

Carte,  Mrs.  D'Oyly,  i.  220 ;    ii.  36-38 

Cassatt,  yirs..  Portrait  of,  ii.  57 

Cauldwell,  ii.  251 

Cauty,  H.  H.,  ii.  48 

Cazin,  i.  102 

"Century  Magazine  "  ii.  1,  21 

Champtleury,  i.  31 

Chapman,  i.  156 

Chapman,  Miss  Emily,  i.  07,  95,   112, 

138 
Chase,  William,  ii.  30,  31,  32,  224 

Portrait  of,  ii.  29 
Chelsea  in  Ice  [Harmotiy  in  Grey),  ii.  64 
Chelsea  Rags,  ii.  86,  224 
Chelsea  Reach  [Harmony  in  Grey),  i.  199 
Cheyne    Walk,    houses  in,  i.  37,  118; 

ii.  11,  93,  94,  123,  277,  288 
Chicago  Exhibition,  ii.  130 
Childs,  F.  L.  T.,  i.  36 ;    ii.  308 
Christie,  i.  108 
Church,  i.  140 

Claghorn  Collection,  the,  i.  299;  ii.  2 
Claretie,  Jules,  i.  130 
Clarke,  Sir  Edward,  ii.  188-91 
Claude,  i.  145  ;   ii.  177 
Claus,  ii.  225 
Clausen,  George,  ii.  73 
Coast  of  Brittany,  The,  i.  94,  96,  133, 

312 
Coast  Survey,  Nos.  I.  and  II.,  i.  45,  46, 

72,  86,  280 
Cole,  Alan  S.,  i.  24,  150,  189,  191,  197, 

199,  201,   202,   203,   205,  209,  210, 

227,   228,  257,   292,   296,   300,  302, 

303,  309;   ii.  16,  34,  56,  77,  94,  117, 

204 
Cole,  Mrs.  A.  S.,  ii.  77 
Cole,  Sir  Henry,  i.  47,  150,  302,  307 

Portrait  of,  i.  200 
Cole,  Timothy,  ii.  176,  177,  224,  252 
Cole,  Vicat,  i.  159 
CoUingwood,  i.  230 
Colnaghi,  Messrs.,  i.  73 
Colvin,  Sidney,  i.  182  ;  ii.  43,  190 
Comstock,  Gen.  C.  B.,  i.  35 ;   ii.  310 
Conway,  Dr.  Moncure,  i.  142 ;   ii.  43 
Cooper,  i.  97 
Coquelin  Aine,  ii.  1 1 
Corder,  Miss  Rosa,  i.  214 

Portrait  of  (Arraiujement  in  Black 
and  Brovm),  i.  201,  202,  227,  248, 
249,  296  ;   ii.  3,  93,  116,  221,  292 
Cordier,  i.  131 
Coronio,  Mrs,,  i.  79 
Cottet,  ii.  224 
Courbet,  i.  49,  69,  74,  75,  79,  88,  89, 

94,  95,  96,   133.   134,   145,   146,   162, 

179,  180,  301  ;  ii.  51,  52,  273 


Courbet  on  the  Shore,  i.  134 

"  Court  and  Society  Review,"  ii.  25 

Couture,  i.  48  ;   ii.  50 

Cowan,  J.  J.,  i.  287 

Portrait  oj  (Grey  Man),  ii.  156,  170 
Crabb,  Capt.,  i.  189 
Crackenthorpe,  Hubert,  ii.  87 
Crane,  Walter,  i.  210,  239 ;    ii.  73 
Creditor,  The  (see  Gold  Seat),  i.  259 
Cremorne  Gardens,  i.  258 
Crdpuscule   [Flesh   Colour  and   Oreen), 

i.  122,  139 
Critique  d'Avant  Garde,  i.  301 
Crockett,  S.  R.,  ii.  170 

Portrait  of  [Grey  Man),  ii.  170,  171 
"  Chronique  des  Beanx  Arts,"  ii.  125 
Cuckoo,  the,  i.  295 
Curtis,  Ralph,  i.   267,  268,  271,   272; 

ii.  35 
Cust,  Henry,  ii.  98 


"Daily  Chronicle,"  ii.  168,  194 

"Daily  Mail,"  ii.  131 

"Daily  News,"  i.  232,  312;    ii.  42 

"Daily  Telegraph,"  i.  83;    ii.  37,  42 

Dalou,  i.  185 

Dalziel  Brothers,  i.  99 

Dam  Wood,  The,  i.  176 

Dance  House,  The,  i.  72 ;   i!.  83 

Dannat,  ii.  65 

Daughter  of  Eve,  A,  ii.  291 

Davis,  Edmund,  i.  82,  144 ;   ii.  226 

Davis,  Jeffreson,  i.  40,  41 

Davis,  Miss,  i.  39 

Day,  Lewis  F.,  ii.  38 

"Day  with  WhisUer,  A,"  ii.  6 

Degas,  i.  49,  75 ;  ii.  32,  51,  221 

Delacroix,  i.  131 

Hommage  a,  i.  130,  131 
Delannoy,  Ernest,  i.  54,  59-64,  71,  78 
Del:itre,'i.  71,76,86,  116 
Deschamps,  Charles,  i.  157,  259 
Design  for  a  Mosaic  [Gold  Girl),  i.  150 
Desnoyers,  Femand,  i.  103 
Desoye,  Mme.,  i.  116 
Dicey,  i.  191 
Dicksee,  Frank,  i.  159 
Dillens,  ii.  224 
Disraeli,  i.  227 
Dowdeswell,  C.  W.,  i.  302 
Dowdeswell,  Messrs.,  i.  259,  297,  312  : 

ii.  1,  60,  130 
Dowdeswell,  Walter,  i.  188 ;   ii.  27,  60. 

67,  115,  243 
Dresden  Museum,  i.  155 
Drouct,  i.  54,  50,  71.  73-75,  92,  95  ; 
ii.  151,  213 
Portrait  of,  70,  72,  92 


317 


INDEX 


Du  Maurier,  G.,  i.  49-51,  78,  79,  84,  85, 
233 ;   ii.  54,  154,  160,  161,  162 

Dublin  Art  Gallery,  i.  185 

Dublin  Sketching  Club  Exhibition,  ii.  35 

Dubois,  ii.  224 

Duchatel,  ii.  135 

Dudley  GaUery,  i.  199,  157 

Dunn,  Henry  Treffy,  i.  113,  117 

Dunthome's  Gallery,  ii.  85,  107 

Duran,  Carolus,  i.  68,  274  ;  ii.  137,  252 

Durand-Ruel,  i.  157 

Duranty,  i.  131,  223,  248 

Durer,  i.  279 

Duret,  Theodore,  i.  1,  30,  36,  37,  49, 
69,  88,  140,  200,  218,  265,  278, 
301,  308,  313 ;  ii.  3,  15,  24,  83, 
116,  134,  151,  153,  236,  300,  301, 
302 
Portrait  of  (Flesh  Colour  and 
Black),  i.  125,  308 

Dutchman  hdding  the  Glass,  The,  i.  71 

Duveneck,  Frank,  i.  262,  264,  266,  267, 
269,  295,  296 

East,  ii.  47,  302 

Eaton,  F.,  ii.  131 

"Echo,"  i.  312 

Eddy,  E.  J.,  i.  5,  146  ;    ii.  201 

Portrait  of,  ii.  156 
Eden  case,  ii.  163,  164,  165,  183,  193- 

201 
Eden,  Sir  W.,  ii.  154,  164,  165,  196 
Eden,    Lady,  Portrait  of    {Brouni  and 

Gold),  ii.  158,  196 
Edinburgh  Exhibition,  iL  88 
Edwards,  i.  93 
Edwards,  Mrs  ,  i.  93,  253 
Efjie  Deans,  i.  201 ;  ii.  88,  89,  281 
Egg,  i.  97 

Eldon,  i.  189,  302,  303 
Ellis,  i.  244 
Eloise,  i.  56 
Elwell,  ii.  258 

Portrait  of,  ii.  204 
Embroidered  Curtain,  The,  ii.  83 
En  Plein  Soldi,  i.  71 
Enciimping,  i.  93,  141 
EvcJimpment,  An,  i.  32 
"English  Etchings,"  ii.  81 
Erskine,  The  Hon.  Stuart,  ii.  86 
"Etching  and  Etchers,"  i.  151,  152 
Etchings  from  Nature,  Two,  i.  76 
Evans,  ii.  48 

Fagan,  ii.  212 

Falling  Rocket  (Nocturne  in  Black  and 
Gold),  i.  199,  211,  213,  228,  234,  235, 
237-39,  240,  241,  244;   ii.  4,  127 

3i8 


Fan,  Study  for  a,  ii.  226 

Fan,  The  {Red  and  Black),  ii.  158 

Fantin-Latour,  i.  49,  53,  54,  61,  68-70, 

73.75-77,81,88-90,93,96,  102,  116, 

121,  130,  131,  132,  146,  147,  163,  168, 

169,   184,   185,   221,   263,  264,  307; 

ii.  51,  158,  261 
Farquharson,  ii.  217 
"Figaro,"  i.  247,  258 
Fine  Art  Society,  i.  102,  154,  158,  215, 
244,    248,    257,    259,    263,    289, 
291-93,  296,  310;    ii.    43,    136, 
294 
Catalogue  of  Etchings,  ii.  108 
Fire  Wheel,  The,  i.  228 
"First  Sermon,  The,"  i.  99 
Fish  Shop,  The — Busy  Chelsea,  ii.   64, 

86 
Flesh  Colour  and  Grey,  i.  313 
Fletcher,  ii.  273 
Flower,  i.  189,  259 
Forain,  ii.  221 
Forbes,  Archibald,  ii.  35 
Forbes,  Staats,  ii.  93 
Ford,  Sheridan,  ii.  96,  100,   101,  103- 

105,  107,  161 
Forge,  The,  i.  94,  101 
"Fors  Clavigera,"  i.  213,  233 
"Fortnightly  Review,"  i.  112;   ii.  44 
Foster,  John,  i.  79 
"Four  31  asters  of  Etching,"  i.  249 
Fragiacomo,  ii.  221 

Franklin,  Miss  Maud,  i.  177,  189,  218, 
261,  266,  273,  294,  301;  ii.  24, 
76 
Etching,  215 

Portrait  of  (Arrangement  in  White 
and  Black,  No.  1),  i.  217,    218. 
228,  297 
Frederick,  Harold,  ii.  187 
Free  Trade  Wharf,  i.  215 
Freer,  i.  89,  148,  177,  196,  259 ;   ii.  81, 

89,  127,  279-81,  297,  299,  300-2 
French  Artists,  Society  of,  i.  157,  199 
French  Gallery,  the,  i.  139,  157 
French  International  Exhibition,  i.  140, 

167 
French  Set  of  Etchings,  the,  i.   61,  71, 

85,  280 
Freshfield,  i.  184 
Frith,  i.  81,  97,  240 
FuUeylove,  ii.  145  146 
FuUeylove,  Mrs.,  ii.  146 
Fumette,  i.  56,  69.  71,  286 
"Funny  Folks,"  i.  312 
Fur  Jacket,   The    (Black    and    Brown, 

Brown,  Amber  and  Black),  i.  103,  201, 

211,234,301  ;  ii.  89 
Furse,  ii.  98,  217 


INDEX 


Gaiswobthy,  Mrs.,  i.  189 

Gandara,  ii.  224 

Garden,  The,  i.  282  ;   ii.  99 

Gardens,  The  (Cremorne),  ii.  64 

Gardner,  Mrs.  J.,  i.  134 ;  ii.  129 

Gautier,  i.  144 

Gay,  ii.  150,  151,  153 

"Gazette  des  Beaux  Arts,"  i.  1,  76,  103, 

130,  141,  144,  223,  248,  307;  ii.  53 
Gee,  i.  189 

•'Gentle  Art  of  Making  Enemies,  The," 
i.  120,  126,  145,  151,  167,  181,  186, 
190,  232,  245,  246,  248,  296,  311; 
ii.  9,  15,  16,  28,  29,  43,  45,  72,  92, 
96,  99,  100-13,  125,  126,  161,  197, 
199,  280 
Gerome,  ii.  51 

Gilbert,  ii.  89,  115,  190,  217 
Gilchrist,    Miss  Connie,   Portrait   (Gold 
Girl),  i.  201,  202,  218,  248,  259 ;    ii. 
23 
GQder,  ii.  1 

Giadeeea  [Nocturne),  i.   288 
Glasgow  Corporation,  ii.  118 
Glasgow  Exhibition,  ii.  92 
Glasgow  Institute  of  Fine  Arts,  ii.  92, 

114 
Glasgow  University,  ii.  295 
Gleyre,  i.  48,  49,  53,  66;   ii.  50,  242 
Godwin,  E.  W.,  i.  94,  219,  224,  258, 

292  •   ii   75   112 
Godwin,  E.  (junior),  i.  126  ;  ii.  198,  302 
Godwin,   Mrs.    Beatrix   (later  Mrs.   J. 
McN.  Whistler),  ii.  75,  76,  77,  78, 
112,  133,  138,  139,  142,  144,  146, 
148,  150,  153,  176 
Death  of,  ii.  78,  172 
Portrait  of  {Red  Lamplight),  ii.  26, 
63 
Gold  Scab,  The,  i.  256,  259 
Gold  Screen,  The,  i.  121,  122,  129 
Goldschmidt,  ii.  3 
Goncourt,  Edmond  de,  ii.  94 
Goncourts,  the  de,  i.  116 
"Good  Words,"  i.  99 
Gosse,  Edmund,  i.  186 
Goulding,   Frederick,   i.   92,   154,   282, 

289    291  ■    ii.  190 
Goupi'l  GaUery,  i.  90,  259;   ii.  68,  116- 
118,  122 
Catalogue  of  Exhibition,  ii.  108 
Exhibition,  i.  201 
Grafton  Gallery,  ii.  136 
Graham,  Kenneth,  ii.  98 
Graham,  William,  i.  212,  234,  267,  269  ; 

ii.  59 
Grain,  Comey,  ii.  22,  23 
I  Irand,  Mrs.  Sarah,  ii.  256 
Grande  Place,  Brussels,  ii.  92 


I   Grasset,  ii.  224 
Graves,  Algernon,  i.  200,  214,  226-28. 

232,  238,  242,  251,  296,  297 
Gravesande,  Van  s',  ii.  281 
Gray,  ii.  249,  251 
Great  Sea,  The  (Green  and  Silver),  ii. 

225 
Greaves,  Albert,  ii.  178 
Greaves,  Walter  and  Harry,  i.  88,  106- 

108,   126,   137,   138,   154,   164,    165, 

168,  171,  175,  176,  179,  185,  188,  204 
Green  and  Violet,  ii.  57,  58,  187 
Greenaway,  Kate,  i.  230 
Gregg,  i.  35  ;   ii.  310 
Greillenhagen,  ii.  217 
Gretche.n  at  Heidelberg,  i.  62 
Grey  and  Gold,  i.  167 
Grey  Lady,  The,  i.  305,  306 ;   ii.  92 
Grist,  i.  267 
Groher  Club,  i.  280 

Exhibition,  ii.  194 
Grossmith,  i.  79 
Grosvenor  GaUery,  i.  210,  211,  217,  297, 

309,  312  ;   ii.  44,  55 
"Grosvenor  Notes,"  i.  218 
Guardi,  i.  145,  263  ;  ii.  178,  179 
Guthrie,  ii.  114,  151,  217,  221,  224,  295, 

302 

Haanen,  Van,  i.  261,  267,  269 
Haden,  Annie,  i.  82 
Drypoint,  i.  91 
Etching,  i.  71 
Haden,  Lady,  i.  2,  7,  11,  22,  23,  76,  90, 

208  ;   ii.  5,  163 
Haden,  Seymour,  i.  22,  23,  24,  62,  71, 

76,  77,  78,  79,  82,  85,  89,  90,  104,  105, 

141,   142,   143,  279,  289,  296,  298; 

ii.  5,  91,  183,  184 
Hague,  The,  Exhibition,  i.  104 
Halkett,  i.  313,  314,  315;   ii.  114 
Halle,  i.  211 

Hals,  Franz,  ii.  284,  285 
Hamerton,  i.  102,  106,  145,  151,  152, 

153,  169,  248  ;  ii.  27,  108 
Hamilton,  Dr.,  i.  296 
Hamilton,  J.  McLure,  ii.  100,  101,  221 
Hammond,  i.  28 
Hannay,  Portrait  of,  ii.  172 
Hare,  i.  256 
Harland,  ii.  99,  140 
Harpers',  ii.  161 
Harpignies,  ii.  102,  225 
Harris,  ii.  186 

Harrison,  Alex.,  ii.  151,  152,  252 
Harrison,  R.  H.  C,  ii.  59 
Harry,  ii.  94,  104 
Hartley      Institution,      Southampton, 

i.  198 


INDEX 


"Hawk,"  ii.  112 

Hawkins,  ii.  91 

Haxton,  ii.  99 

Head  of  Old  Man  Smoking,  i.  74 

Hecker,  i.  90 

Heinemann,  E.,  ii.  180,  181 

Heinemann,  W.,  i.  196,  220  ;  ii.  99,  106, 

173,  179,  180,  187,  194,  196,  197,  200, 

207,  208,  212,  214,  247,  248,  265,  269, 

281,  289,  294,  299,  301,  302 
Heinemann,  Mrs.,  Portrait  of,  ii.  291 
Helleu,  ii,  150,  187 
Henley,  ii.  95,  96,  97,  98,  166,  183,  247, 

300 
Herbert,  ii.  49 
Herkomer,  i.  159;  ii.  186 
Heseltine,  i.  245 
Hill,  ii.  48 

Hiroshige,  i.  161,  162,  274 
"History     of     Modern     Illustration," 

i.  100 
Hogarth,  i.  21,  145  ;  ii.  21,  22,  179 
Hogg,  ii.  36 
Hokusai,  i.  116 
Holden,  i.  38 
Holdgate,  i.  227 
Hole,  i.  315 

Holker,  i.  232,  235,  236,  237,  238,  243, 
■    246 

Hollar,  i.  279 

Hollowav.  ii.  172,  187,  188 
Holmes,  G.  A.,  i.  198 ;   ii.  35,  57,  69 
Holmes,  Sir  R.  R.,  i.  154,  155 
Hommagc  a  la  Viriti  (see  Fantin),  i.  130, 

131 
Horniman,  ii.  29 
Horslev,  i.  130;   ii.  57 
Houghton,  i.  81,  191 
Hmir  in  the  Life  of  a  Cadet,  An,  L  32 
"Hour,"  i.  180,  181 
Howard,  F.,  ii.  216,  217 
Howard,  Gen.  O.,  i.  35 ;   ii.  312 
Howell,  i.  109,  112,  113,  114,  115,  117, 

191,  192,  195,  200,  214,  225,  226,  227, 

228,  255,  259,  264,  296,  300,  309, 310 ; 

ii.  260 
HoweUs,  ii.  151 
Hubbard,  ii.  296 
Huddleston,  i.  232,  238 
Huish,  i.  244 
Hulton.  i.  88 
Hungerford,  i.  304 
Hungcr/ord  Bridge,  etching,  i.  101 
Hunt,  Hobnan,    i.    81,  85,   121,  210; 

U.  39,  50,  51,  59,  73 
Huth,  Mr.,  i.  117,  156,  191 
Huth,  Mrs.,  i.  179,  301 

Portrait  of,  i.  178,  179  ;  ii.  56 
Huysmans,  i.  301 

320 


Illustkators,  Society  of,  ii.  184 
"Inconsequences,"  i.  151,  152 
"  Indipendance  Beige,"  ii.  104 
Ingram,  Ayerst,  ii.  47,  48,  57,  61,  67-70 
Ingres,  i.  73,  146 

International  Society,  ii.  75,  199,  216- 
227 
Exhibitions,  ii.  157,  204,  206,  221, 
223,  225,  226 
lonides,  i.  118,  156 

Aleco,  i.  50,  51,  78,  79,  211 
Alexander,  i.  78,  124,  153,  154 
Helen  (Mrs.  William  Whistler),  i. 

211 
Luke,  i.  51,  52,  56,  58,  59,  61,  69, 
78,79,84,85,133,187,  211  ■ 
ii.  120,  127,  260,  289,  293 
Portrait  of,  i.  89 
Iris  (see  Miss  Kinsella),  ii.  275 
Irving,  i.  199,  213,  297 

Portrait  of  (Arrangement  in  Black), 
i.  103,  199,  211,  212,  215,  228, 
234,  249,  297,  308  ;  ii.  93 
Isle  de  la  Cite,  i.  83,  286 
Israels,  ii.  89,  225,  281 
Ivan-Muller,  ii.  98 
Ives,  ii.  132,  296 

Jacomb-Hood,  G.  p.,  i.  259 ;  ii.  48,  141 
Jacquemart,  i.  116 
James,  ii.  10,  70,  93,  99 
Jameson,  i.  147,  148,  156 
Jarvis,  i.  259 
Jekyll,  i.  203,  207 
Jeune,  Lady,  ii.  43 
Jobbins,  i.  267,  277,  288 
"  Joe  "  (Mrs.  Joanna  Abbott),  i.  88,  89, 
94,  115,  127,  134,  184 
Portrait  of,  i.  94,  215 
Johnston,  Humphreys,  ii.  151 
Jongkind,  i.  102 
Jopling-Rowe,  ii.  76 
Josey,  i.  226 
Joyant,  ii.  119 

Keene,  i.  81,  230,  231 ;  ii.  63,  71 

Kelly,  ii.  98 

Kennedy,  David,  ii.  293 

Kennedy,  E.  G.,  i.  46,  196  ;    ii.  172-76, 

193-96,  301 
Kensington  Gardens,  ii.  168 
Keppel,  i.  46,  154,  298 ;   ii.  4,  6 
Kerr-Lawson,  ii.  209 
Key,  i.  45,  46 
Khnopff,  ii.  221 
King,  Yeend,  ii.  46 
Kinsella,    Miss,   Portrait  of  (Rose   ani 

Green),  U.  157,  187,  279 


INDEX 


Kipling,  ii.  97 
Kipling,  Mrs.,  ii.  99 
Kitchen,  The,  i.  62,  71,  281 
Klinger,  ii.  221 
Klint,  ii.  221 
Kobbe,  i.  31,  43 
Koepping,  ii.  221 
Kroyer,  ii.  224 


Labouohere,  i.  42  ;    ii.  23,  75 

Lagoon,  The,  i.  281 

Lagrange,  i.  130 

Lamartine,  i.  17 

Lambert,  i.  55,  58 

Laraont,  i.  50,  51,  53,  57 

Landor,  Savage,  ii.  180 

Landseer,  i.  130 

Lang,  i.  189 

Langdon,  Gen.,  i.  2,  34-36 ;   ii.  305 

Langc  Leizen,  i.  121,  127  ;    ii.  127 

Langtry,  Mrs.,  Portrait  of,  i.  303 

Lannion,  ii.  148 

Lanteri,  i.  185  ;  ii.  10,  278 

Larned,  Col.,  i.  30,  32,  33 

Laurens,  i.  102  ;   ii.  51 

Lautrec,  ii.  221 

Laveille,  i.  116 

Lavery,  ii.  117,  151,  216,  217,  221,  224, 

289,  300-2 
Law,  ii.  48 
Lawless,  ii.  10 
Lawson,  ii.  81,  302 
Leathart,  i.  156 ;   ii.  127 
Lee,  Gen.,  i.  35  ;   ii.  312 
"Legendary  Ballad.^,"  i.  100 
Legion  of  Honour,  ii.  88 
Legros,    i.   53,  54,  68,  75-78,  81,  84, 

85,  88,  102,  103,  118,  131,  142,  296; 

ii.  224 
Leighton,  i.  50, 121, 159,  243, 261 ;  ii.  20, 

22,  44,  50,  51,  54,  67,  130,  167 
Lenoir,  Miss,  ii.  37 
Lepere,  ii.  222 
Leslie,  i.  130  ;  ii.  49 
Lewis,  Arthur,  i.  79 
Lewis,  Sir  G.,  i.  255 ;   ii.  103-5,  188 
Leyland,  i.  125,  138,  146,  156,  166,  167, 
175,  187,  188,  203-5,  208,  209, 
225,  239,  255,  256,  307  ;   ii.  127 
Portrait  of,  i.  176,  177 
Leyland,  Mrs.,  i.  166,  171,  175-79,  188, 
189,211,  219,  234,  301 
Portraits  of,  i.  177,  179 
Leyland,  Elinor,  Portrait  of  {Blue  Oirl), 

1.  176,  258 
Levland,  Florence,  Portrait  of,  i.  176 
Liberty,  i.  117 
Liebermann,  ii.  221 


Light  at  the  Door,  The,  i.  28 

Lillis.  in  our  Alley,  ii.  205,  207,  224 

Linde,  i.  217 

Lindenkohl,  i.  43,  44 

Lindsay,  i.  200-12,  233;    ii.  89 

Lindsey  Row,  houses    in,  i.   106,  I?,I, 

137,  224 
Linton,  ii.  184 
Lithography  case,  ii.  186-92 
Lillh'.  Arthur,  i.  71 
Little  Blue  Bonnet,  ii.  22,  112 
Little  Cardinal,  ii.  293 
Little  Evelyn,  ii.  204 
"Little  Journeys,"  ii.  296 
Little  Pool,  The.,  i.  86 
Little  Putney,  The,  i.  215 
Little  Red  Note,  A,  ii.  56 
Little  Rose  of  Lyme  Regis,  The,  ii.  78, 

166,  205,  207,  298 
Little    Sophie    of    Soho,   ii.    205,  207, 

224 
Little  Venice,  ii.  4 

Little  White    Girl,    The    {Symplmny   in 
White,    No.  2),    i.    89,    127-30, 
144,  146,  147,  178  ;   ii.  127,  166, 
251,  261,  262,  280 
Verses  on,  i.  128 
Liverdun,  i.  62,  71 
Livermore,  Mrs.,  i.  1,  9,  14 
Liverpool  Art  Club  Exhibition,  i.  198 
Lobsters.  The.  i.  256,  259 
Logsdail,  i.  267 
"London  Garland,"  ii.  166 
London  Memorial  Exhibition,  i.  28,  45, 

73,  90,  94,  101,  148,  150,  155,  177, 

258,  280,  287,  303 ;    ii.  3,  158,  226, 

275 
Long,  ii.  49 
Lorimer,  ii.  67 
Lowell,  i.  1,2,  8,  37 
Lucas,  i.  59,  140,  200 
Ludovici,  ii.  48,  56 
Lunois,  ii.  221 

Luxembourg,  ii.  114,  116,' 119,  125 
Lynden,  Van,  ii.  88,  89 


Macaskie,  ii.  190 

MacCoIl,  ii.  137,  183,  192,  i:95 

Maclise,  i.  97 

MacMonnies,  ii.  228,  239-42,   151,  152, 

165,  196.  197 
Macq.jay,  ii.  22,  23 
Maeterlinck,  ii.  104 
"Magazine  of  Art,"  ii.  68,  262 
Major's  Daughter,  The,  i.  99,  100 
MaIIarra6,  ii.  134,  141,  151,  153 

Portrait  of,  ii    134 
Mancini,  ii.  224 


n:x 


321 


INDEX 


Manet,  i.  75,  98,  102,  103,  116,  131,  179, 

180,  274,  307  ;    ii.  51,  221,  261 
Mann,  Portrait  of,  i.  91 
Mantz,  i.  103,  130,  141,  144 
Manuel,  Master  Stephen,  ii.  204 
Marchande  de  Moutarde,  La,  i.  71,  72  ; 

ii.  81 
Maris,  ii.  89,  221 
Mark  Twain,  i.  193 
Marks,  Murray,  i.   116-18,    153,    203, 

216,217 
Marks,  Stacy,  i.  79  ;  ii.  49 
Marlborough,  Duke  of,  ii.  126 
Marmalade,  Marquis  de,  i.  135,  136,  142 
Marriott-Watson,  ii.  97 
Martin,  i.  107 
Martin,  B.  E.,  ii.  1 
Martin,  Henri,  i.  54,  67,  76 
Martin,  Homer,  i.  195 
Marty,  ii.  135 
Marx,  ii.  116 

Marzetti,  Ife.,  i.  303,  305,  311 
Meison,  i.  8 
Master  Snnth,  The,  ii.  78,  166,  176,  207, 

276,  293,  298 
Mathew,  Justice,  ii.  188 
Maus,  ii.  82 
McCarthy,  ii.  112 
McClure,  ii.  221 
"  McClure's  Magazine,"  ii.  162 
McCuUough,  i.  80,  137,  139,  199 
McNeiU,  Alicia,  i.  14 

Charles  Donald,  i.  7 

Donald,  i.  7 

Martha,  i.  8 

WiUiam  G.,  i.  8 
Meissonier,  i.  261 
Melbourne  Museum,  i.  155 
Melchers,  ii.  224 
Melville,  ii.  217 
Menard,  ii.  224 

Menpes,  i.  192,  220,  285,  286,  290,  296, 
301  ;  ii.  19,  20,  28,  35,  37,  67,  62,  70, 
71,  112 
Menzel,  ii.  224 
Mere  Oh-ard,  La,  i.  57,  68,  73,  94 

Etching,  i.  71,  72 
Meredith.  G.,  i.  109-11  ;   ii.  46 
Merritt,  Mrs.,  i.  165,  297  ;   ii.  38 
Mcryon,  i.  279 
Mesdag,  ii.  89,  281 
Metsu,  ii.  179 
Meux,  Lady,  i.  301,  302;    ii.  116 

Portrait  of  {Fksh  Colour  and  Pink), 
i.  301,  308,  309  ;   ii.  35 

Portrait  of  (White   and    Black),  i. 
301  ;   ii.  136 
Milcendeau,  ii.  151,  224 
Miles,  Frank,  i.  304 ;  ii.  11 

322 


Miles,  F.  B.,  i.  39,  48,  54 

Millais,  i.   77,  81,  85,   159,   210,  293  ; 
ii.  49,  53,  115 

Millbank,  i.  281 

Mills,  i.  89 

Mirbeau,  ii.  150,  165 

Miser,  The,  i.  281 

Mitchell,  ii.  302 

^'Modern  Men,"  ii.  96 

"Modern  Paiiiting,"  ii.   100 

Moncrieff,  Mrs.,  i.  191,  251 

Monet,  ii.  68,  221 

Montalba,  Miss,  i.  261 

Montesquiou,  ii.  94,  95,  150,  153,  297 
Portrait  of,  i.  215  ;    ii.  94 

Montezuma,  i.  58 

Montiori,  Mrs.,  i.  189 

Moody,  i.  205 

Moore,  Albert,  i.  81,145,  189,  195,231, 
238,  247  ;    ii.   12,  273 

Moore,  Augustus,  ii.   112 

Moore,  George,  ii.   100,  164,   165,  191, 
198 

Moore,  Henry,  i.  198 

Morning    before    the    Massacre    of    St. 
Bartholomew,  The,  i.  99,   100 

"Morning  Post,"  i.   205;    ii.  280 

Slorrice,  ii.  225 

Morris,  Phil,  i.  171 

Morris,  W.,  i.  153,  203,  221  ;   ii.  13,  39 

Morrison,  ii.  98 

Morse,  i.  224,  309  ;   ii.  218 

Morse,  Mrs.,  i.  224 

Mother,  The  (Arrangement  in  Grey  and 
Black.  No.  I.)  (see  Mrs.  \\"histler),  i. 
74,  103, 138,  157,  168-71,  179.  226, 
227,  297-99,  312  ;  ii.  3,  35,  36,  89, 
92,  93,  114,  116,  119,  120,  125 
Drv-point,  i.  215 

Moulton,  Jlrs.   i.   27,  28 

Muhrman,  ii.  221 

Munich  International  Exhibition,  ii.  87 

Murano  Glass  Furnace,  i.  269 

Murger,  i.  52,  53,  144 

Music   Room,   The   (Green  and    Rose), 
i.  89,  91,  141  ;    ii.   124 


"National  (Scots)  Observer,"  the,  ii.  95- 

97 
Naval  Review  Series   (Jubilee    Series), 

i.   155;    ii.   67,  68,  82,  223 
Neighbours,    The   (Gold    and    Oranje), 

ii.  225 
New  English  Art  Club,  ii.  92,  183,  218 
New  Gallery,  ii.   131 
New  York  "Exhibition,  i.   299 
"New  York  Herald,"  ii.  91 
New  York  Metropolitan  Museum,  i.  299 


INDEX 


'New  York  Stale  Library  Bulletin,"  ii. 

162 
Nicholson,  ii.  194,  200,  221 
"Nineteenth  Century,"  i.  249,  310 
Nocturne  in  Blue  and  Gold,  i.  199,  234, 

240,  248 
Nocturne  in  Blue  and  Silver,  i.  234 
Norman,  the  Misses,  ii.  281 
Noseda,  Mrs.,  i.  226 
Note  Blanche,  i.  95 


Obach,  i.  226 
"Observer,"  ii.  58 
"Once  a  Week,"  i.  99,  100 
Orchardson,  i.  159;    ii.  21,  89,  115 
Oulevey,   i.    54,    56,   57,   58,   69,    71  ; 
ii.  151,  213 


Pacific,  The,  i.  248,  249 

"Paddon  Papers,  The,"  i.  114,309,310 

Painters  and  Etchers,  Society  of,  i.  295 

Palaces,  Nocturne,  i.  265,  282,  311,  312 

PalJ  Mall,  exhibition  at,  48,  i.  179 

"  Pall  Mall  Oazctle,"  i.  180,309;  ii.  42, 

57,  58,  72,  84,  91,  130,  143,  161,  165 
"  Pall  Mall  Pictures,"  ii.  63,  64 
Palmer,  i.  9 

Palmer,  Miss,  i.  26,  27,  30 
Paris  Centenary  E.vhibition,  ii.  166 
Paris,  International  Exhibition,  i.  219 
Paris,   Memorial   Exhibition,  i.  73,  95, 

149,  155;  ii.  75,  203,  291 
Paris  Universal  Exhibition,  ii.  88,  90, 

225,  251 
Park,  i.  27,  28 
Park,  Miss,  i.  27 
Parrish,  ii.  5,  6 
Parry,  i.  232,  241,  244 
Partridge,  ii.  122 
"  Passages  /rom  Modern  English  Poets," 

i.  97 
Pater,  ii.  13,  39 
Pawling,  ii.  172 
Peacock  Room,  the,  i.   125,   198-209, 

219,  263;    ii.   132 
Pearsall,  ii.  28,  35 
Peck,  Miss — Portrait  oj,  ii.  157 
Pellegrini,  i.  196,  290;    ii.  )2,  23 
Pennell  (J),  i.  100  ;  ii.  1-6,  85,  95,  98, 

134,   137,   163,    167,   108,   173,   186, 

189,    191,    221-24,     226,    247,    249, 

250,   252,   291,   206,   299,   301 
Pennell,  Mrs.    (E.)   ii.    172,    214,    248, 

249,   267,   279,   281,   280,   287,   299 

300 
Pennington,  Harper,  i.   170,  267,  271, 

302;    ii.    11,  21-23 


Pennsylvania  Academy,  ii.  163,  297 
Peterham,  i.  232 
Philadelphia  Academy,   i.   297 
Philadelphia  Exhibition,  i.   299 
Philip,   Birnie,   ii.   264,   265 

Portrait  oj,  ii.   204 
Philip,  Miss  Birnie,  ii.   174,   179,  212, 

226,   252,   257,   258,   266,   269,   276, 

277,  279,  280,  288,  291,  299-302 
Philip,  Mrs.  Birnie,  ii.  212,  252,  257 

258,  276,  277,  280 
Phillip,  i.  82 
Phillips,  ii.  56 
Philosopher,  The,  see  HoUoway,  ii.  172, 

221 
Phryne  the  Superb,  ii.  205,  225 
Piano  Picture,  The  (At  the  Piano),  i.  68, 

74,  75,  82,  90,  91,  95,  99,  133,  140 

ii.   221 
Picard,  ii.  104 
"Piccadilly,"  i.  216 
Piccadilly  (Grey  and  Gold),  ii.  36 
"Piker  Papers,  The,"  i.  296 
Pissarro,  ii.  222 
Poe,  i.  98,  304 

Pollitt,  Portrait  of,  ii.   168,  170 
Pomfret,  i.  26,  37 
Pool,  The,  i.  101 
Poole,  ii.  192 
Pope,  i.  96 
"  Portfolio,  The,"  i.  152, 242,  248 ;  ii.  64 

81 
Portrait  Painters'  Exhibition,  ii.  293 
Potter,  i.  156,  191  ;   ii.  127 
Potter,  Mrs.  i.  191 
Powerscourt,  ii.  35 
Poynter,  i.  50,  51,  52,  55,  69,  84,  97, 

159,    160,  205,   210,  233,   243,   290, 

ii.  49,  54 
Pretty  Nelly  Brown,  ii.   204 
Princesse  du  Pays  de  la  Porcelaine,  La, 

i.   121,  122,  124,  130,  157,  203,  204 

207  ;    ii.  127,  221 
Prinsep,  Val,  i.  80,  109,  130,  166,  176, 

184;    ii.  44 
Probyn,  i.  200 

•'Proposition  No.  2,"  i.  313;    ii.  236 
"Proposition,  A   Further,"  ii.   25,  27 

236 
"Propositions,"  ii.  60,  111 
"  Punch."  i.  240.  312 
Punt,  The,  i.  92,  97 
Puttiey  Bridge,  i.  158,  215,  248 
Purple  and  Gold,  i.   122 
Purple  and  Rose,  i.  122 
Puvis  de  Chavannes,  i.  221  ;  ii.  150,  221 


QciLTEB,  i.  224,  258,  207 


323 


INDEX 


Bae,  i.  158 
Raflfalovitch,  ii.  99 
Rajon,  ii.  26 
Kaleigh,  ii.  98,  295 
Ratier,  ii.  164 

Rawlinson,  i.  156,  191,  214,  226 
Bed  House,  Paimpol,  ii.  148 
Red  Note,  ii.  68 
Red  Rag,  ii.  HI 

Redesdale,  i.  167,   182,   187,  201,  205, 
206,   259 
Portrait  of,   i.  201 
Regent's  Quadrant,  ii.  81 
Regnault,  i.  274 

Relief  Fund  in  Lancashire,  i.  99,  100 
Rembrandt,  i.  145,  279;    ii.  125 
Renaissance  Latine,  i.  202 
Renoir,  ii.  221 
Renouan,  ii.  172,  221 
Ritameiise,  La,  i.  71 
Reveillon,  Mrs.,  i.  90,  302 
Reverence,  His,  ii.  78,  292 
Rhine  Journey  Sketches,  i.  74 
Rhodes,  ii.  168 
Riault,  i.  70,  91 

Portrait  of,  i.  91 
Bibot,  i.  75 
Richard,  i.  157 
Ricketts,  ii.  217 
Rico,  i.  267,  269 
Ridley,  i.  93,  303 

Portrait  of,  i.  303 
Ritchie,  Mrs.,  i.  48,  82,  206 
Rivas,  i.  283 
Robertson,  i.   139,   140,  150;    ii.  226, 

292 
Robins,  Miss,  ii.  183 
Robinson,  ii.  129 

Rodd,  i.  34,  62,  192;    ii.  11,  129 
Rodenbach,  ii.  150 
Rodin,  ii.  137,  150,  158,  224,  226,  241, 

278 
Rops,  ii.  224 

Rose,  i.  156,  225,  231,  245 
Rose  and  Gold,  ii.  187 
Rose  and  Red,  ii.  92 
Rose  and  Silver,  i.  122 
Rossetti,   D.    G.,    i.   81,    109-18,    137, 
138,  142,  143,  145,  153;    ii.  13,  39, 
51,  59,  260.  273 
Rossetti,  W.  M.,  i.  83,  96,  98,  99,  116- 
18,  124,  127,  129,  131,  137,  140,  142, 
143,    156,    177,    186,   210,   214,   232, 
237,   242.,   245   251.   290 
Rothenstein,  ii,   191,  217 
Rotherhithc,  i.  88,  96 
Roussel,  i.  135:  ii.  28,  64,  71,  99 
Roussoff,  i.  267,  269 
Rowley,  i.  50,  51 

324 


Royal  Academy,  i.  76,  82,  88,  94,  96, 

101,    127,   144,   156,   157,   158,  248, 

249 
Royal  Academy,  Student's  Club,  ii.  43 
Ruben,  i.  269 
Rucellai,  Countess,  i.  263 
Buggies,  i.  34 
Ruskin,  i.   199,  213,  214,  217,  229-32, 

237-39,    241-44,    246,    248;     ii.    4, 

39,  111,  178 
Ruskin,  Libel  Action,  i.   1,   119,  229- 

45;    ii.   108,  192 


Sackett,  i.  33 

St.  Gauden.s,  ii.  132 

St.  George,  i.  272 

St.  James's  Street,  i.  215 

St  Louis  Exhibition,  ii.  296 

St.  Mark's,  i.  287  ;   ii.  28,  63 

St.  Petersburg,  i.  1,  9 

St.  Petersburg  Academy  of  Fine  Arts, 

i.  17 
Salaman,  ii.  25 
Salon,  i.  75,  130,  140,  308,  312  ;  ii.  59, 

116,   133,  203,  206,  293 
Salon  des  Befuses,  i.   102,  103 
Samboume,  i.  246 
Sam    Weller's    Lodging    in    the    Fleet 

Prison,  i.  28 
Sandys,  i.  109,  114,  115  ;  ii.  207,  217 
San  Marco,  Facade  of,  i.  272 

Sarasate,  i.  220 ' 

Portrait  of,   i.    126,    178  ;     ii.   2-4, 
8,  56,  57,  63,  116,  194,  298 

Sargent,   ii.   35,    132,    151,   262,   296 

••Saturday  Review,"  i.  145,  248  ;  ii.  27, 
185-87,  190-92,  261 

Sauter,  ii.  216,  217,  221,  225,  226,  276, 
282,  289 

Sauter,  Mrs.  ii.  276.  286 

Savoy  Scaffolding,  ii.  37 

Sawtelle,  ii.  308 

Scarf,  Tlie,  i.  129 

Soharfe,  i.  313 

Scheffer,  i.  48,  50  ;   ii.  50 

Schmitz,  i.  62-64 

School  House  on  Fire,  A,  i.  28 

Scottish  National  Portraits  Exhibition, 
i.  313 

••Scotsman,"  i.  313 

Scott,  i.  267,  268.  278 

Scott,  W.  B.,  i.  109 

••  Scribner's  Magazine,"  i.  250,  298 

Sea  and  Rain,  i.  133,  144  ;    ii.  127 

Seeley  and  Co.  i.  257 

Segantini.  ii.  221 

Seton,  Miss,  Portrait  of  (see  Daughter 
of  Eve),  ii.  291 


INDEX 


Severn,  i.  79,  116,  244 

Shannon,  C.  H.,  i.   149;    ii.  191,  217, 

221,  226 
Shannon,  J.  J.,  ii.  217 
Shaw,  i.  203 

Shipping — Nocturne,  i.  282 
Shipping  at  Liverpool,  i.   176 
Short,  i.  282  ;   ii.  250 
Sickert,  B.,  i.  199,  280 
Sickert,  Mrs.  B.,  i.  162,  166 
Sickert,  W.,  i.  304;    ii.  11,  20,  37,  64, 
99,    168,    185,    186,    189-91 
Portrait  oj,  ii.   26 
Sickert,  Mrs.  W.,  ii.   99 

Portrait  of,  I.   {Violet    and    Pink), 
ii.  64,  65,  II.  (Green  and  Violet), 
ii.  158,  166 
Siesta,  The,  ii.  168 
Sidaner,  ii.  225 
Simon,  ii.  224 
Singleton,  Mrs.,  i.  191 
Six  Projects,  i.  148-50,  165,    179,   258  ; 
ii.   26 
See   Venus  and  Three  Figures 
Sketching,  i.  97 
Smith,  Hopkinson,  ii.  5 
Smalley,  ii.  13 
Societe    Nationalo    des    Beaux    Arts, 

ii.  116 
Solon,  i.  116 

"Songs  on  Stone,"  ii.  87,  159 
Sotheby,  i.  259 
Soupe  d  Trois  Sous,  i.  70,  72 
Southampton  Water,  i.  167 
South  Kensington  Museum,  ii.  85 
South  Kensington  Museum  International 

Exhibitions,  197,  157 
Sower,,  i.  79 
Spartali,  i.  124 
Spartali,  Christine,  i.  122,  124 

Portrait  of,  see  Princesse  du  Pays 
de  la  Porcelaine 
••Spectator,"  i.  242 
Speke  Hall,  i.  176 
Speke  Shore,  i.  176 
••Standard,"  i.  246;    ii;  293,  294 
StansCeld,  Mrs.,  i.  189 
••Star,"  ii.  85 
Start,  i.  185;    ii.  3,  20,  43,  52,  58,  63, 

64,  70,  86,  99,  126,  135,  244,  258 
Steevens,  ii.  98 
Steinlen,  ii.  222 

Stevens,  ii.  31,  50,  63,  71,  150,  224 
Stevenson,  ii.  96-98,   137,   177 
Stewart,  Mrs.,  i.  256 
Stillman,  i.  142 
Stillman,  Mrs.  (Marie  Spartali),  i.  122- 

24,  179,  206 
Stoockl,  i.  43 


Stoker,  Bram,  i.  200 

Stone,  Marcus,  ii.  49 

Stonington,  i.  8,  24,  25,  37,  47,  72,  73 

Storey,  i.  189,  191 

Story,  J.,  i.  304;  ii.  10,  11,  12 

Story,  W.,  i.  304;  ii.  10,  11,  35 

Stott  of  Oldham,  ii.  28,  61 

Strahan,  i.  99 

Strange,  ii.  190 

Street  at  Saverne,  i.  62,  71,  72 

Street,  ii.  97 

Stuck,  ii.  221 

Studd,  i.  128  ;    ii.  127,  289,  302 

"Studies  of  Seven  Arts,"  ii.  214 

Sturgis,  ii.  192,  302 

Sullivan,  i.  315  ;   ii.  224 

Sutherland,  i.  205,  255 ;    ii.  264 

Swan,  i.  99 

Swan  and  Iris,  ii.  81 

Swinburne,   i.   73,   99,    109,   HI,    112, 

115,  128,  129,  169,  230;    ii.  44,  45, 

280 
Symons,  i.   194,  256;    ii.   214 


Tate  Gallery,  the,  i.   160.  212 

Taylor,  i.   185,  241,  242,  248;    ii.  108 

Teck,  Prince,  i.  205,  292 

Temple  Bar,  i.  286 

••Ten  o'clock,"  the,  i.  97,  163,  232;  ii. 

10,  33-46,  52,  111 
Terborg,  ii.  179 
TCte  de  Payaanne,  i.  73 
Thackeray,  i.  82 
Thackeray,  Miss,  i.  24,  48 
Thames,  The,  ii.  169 
Thames  in  Ice,  The,  i.  89,  90,  96,  140 
Thames  Set  oj  Etchings,  The,  i.  82,  84, 

86,  98,  153,  154,  280 
Thames  Warelwuses,  i.  97 
Thaulow,  ii.  221 
Theobald,  ii.  60,  128 
Thoma,  ii.  221 
Thomas,  i.  220 
Thomas,  Brandon,  ii.  99,  204 
Thomas,  Edmund,  i.  86,  153 
Thomas,   Percy,   i.   86.    152,    153,    182, 

184,  199 
Thomas,  Ralph,  i.  198 
Thomas,  Sergeant,  i.  85 
Thompson,  i.  117,  216 

Catalogue  oj  Blue  and  White  Nankin 
Porcelain,    i.    216 
Thom.son,  ii.  81,  116-24,  204 
Three  Figures,  Pink   and   Orey  [Three 

Girls),  see  Six  Projects,  i.   146,  148, 

149,   156,  204;    ii.   130 
Thynne,   Mrs.    (Annie   Haden),    i.    74, 

90,  91  ;    ii.  302 


325 


INDEX 


••Times,"   i.  213,   218,   232,   242,  247, 

309,  312;    ii.   17,  42,  47,   131 
Tissot,  i.  73,   116,   185,   189 
Tite  Street,  Houses  in,  i.  300 ;    ii.  10, 

14,  56,  276 
Titian,  i.  241,  243,  263;  ii.  125,  179 
Tito,  i.  267 
Todd,  i.  13 
"  Toilet.  The,"  i.  216 
Traer,  i.  93,  141 

Traghetto,  The,  i.  280-85;    ii.  84 
"  Trilby,"  ii.  160 
TrouvilU,  ii.  224 
-Truth,"  i.  291  ;   ii.  HI 
Tuckerman,  i.  140 
Tudor  House,  i.  113-15 
Tulip,  The  {Rose  and  Gold),  ii.  158,  226 
Turner,  i.  106;  ii.  177 
Tweed,  ii.  278 
Twenty    Club,     Brussels,     Exhibition, 

ii.  60 
Tivilighl  on  the  Ocean,  see  Valparaiso, 

i.  139,  140 
Tu-o  Little   White  Girls  {Symphony    in 

While.   No.   III.),  i.   144,   146,   147, 

178,  185  ;    ii.  27,  226,  275 
Tyre  Smith,  The,  ii.  86 
Tyzac,  i.  84 

Undekdowh,  ii.  87 
Unsafe  Tenement,  The,  i.  71 
Unwin,  ii.  171,  184 
Unwin,  Mrs.,  ii.  184 

Vallotton,  ii.  221 
Valparaiso,  i.  139,  258 ;   ii.  226 
Valparaiso  Bay,  ii.  64 
Van  Bartels,  ii.  225 
Vanderbilt,  ii.  302 

Portrait  of,  ii.  203 
Vanderbilt,   Mrs. — Portrait    o£    {Ivory 

and  Gold],  ii.  203 
Van  Dyke.  ii.  177 
"  Vanity  Fair,"  i.  215,  217 
Van  Toroop,  ii.  221 
Velasquez,   i.    145,    189,   222 ;     ii.   61, 

125,  177,  210,  221 
Velvet  Govm,  The  {see  Mrs.  Leyland), 

i.  177 
Venice,  i.  261-88 
Venice  Etchings,   i.   72,   155,   281,   290, 

291,  310,  312;    ii.  60,  136 
Venice  International  Exhibition,  ii.  166 
Venice  Museum,  i.  155 
Venturi,  Mme.,  i.  170,  188 
Venus  (see  Six  Projecla),  i.  149 ;  ii.  26, 

138 
Vermeer,  ii.    179 

326 


Veronese,  i.  263 

Victoria  and  Albert  Museum,  i.  154 

Vieille  aux  Loqucs,  La,  i.  45,  71 

Viele-Griffin,  ii.  150,  153,  165 

Vierge,  ii.  222 
.    Vinton,  i.  55  ;   ii.  311 
I    Vivian,  ii.  16,  86 
1    VoUon,  i.  102,  132,  274 

Von  Uhde,  ii.  221 

Vuiliard,  u.  221 

Waddell  and  Co.,  i.  224 

Wagner,  i.  98 

Walker,  i.  81 

Waller,  Maud,  i.  303,  304 

Portrait  of  {Blue  Girl),  i.  303 
Walton,  i.  287;   ii.  114,  216,  217,  221, 

271,  273,  289,  296 
Walton,  Mrs.  ii.  296 
Wapping,  i.  8S,  91,  127,  140 
Ward,  i.  217 
Washington,  i.  37,  40 
Watts,  i.  81,  113,  153,  170,  179,  210; 

ii.  49 
Watts-Dunton,  i.   109,  110,  191,  216; 

ii.  45 
Way,  i.   108,   140,  149,  208,  215,  216, 

255,  258-60,  276,  290,  292;    u.    86, 

89,  163,  169,  186,  190,  300 
Way,  Miss,  Portrait  of,  i.  258 
Weary,  i.  101 

Webb,  Gen.  A.,  i.  31,  33 ;    ii.  308 
Webb,  W.,  i.   187;    ii.   144,  145,  225, 

262,  279,  292 
Webster  i  30 
Wedmor'e,  i.  45,  56,  93,  196,  199,  249, 

250,  310,  311  ;   ii.  108,  294 
Weir,  J.  A.  i.  31 
Weir,  R.  W.  i.  31,  32 
Westminster,  Marquis  of,  i.  206 
Westminster,  The  Last  of  Old,  i.  100,  101 
Westminster  Bridge,  Old,  i.   101 
West  Point,  i.  1,  2,  30-47  ;   ii.  305-12 
Wheeler,  ii.  309 
Whibley,  ii.  98,  183,  247,  301 
Whibley,  Mrs.,  ii,  133,  166,  174,  223, 

880,  288 
"  Whirlwind."  ii.  86,   134 
Whistler,  Jlrs.  Anna  M.  {nie  McNeill), 

i.  2,  7.  9,  10,  11,  13-23,  25-27,  39, 

104,   105,    112,    118,    123,   153,   174, 

175,  251 

death,  i.  294 

Anne  {nie  Bishop),  i.  5 

Anthony,  i.  4 

Charles  D.,  i.  8,  11 

Daniel,  i.  4 

Deborah,  sec  Lady  Haden 

Elinor,  i.  3 


INDEX 


Whistler,  Francis,  i.  4 

Gabriel,  i.  4 

George,  i.  7,  25,  30,  39,  47,  73 

George    Washington,    i.    2,    6-13, 
22,  23,  24,  41,  73 
death,  i.  41  ;    portrait  of,  i.  73 

Hugh,  i.  3 

James  Abbott  McNeill ;  birth, 
i.  1,  8  ;  christening,  i.  2 ; 
journey  to  Russia,  i.  11  ;  early 
portraits,  i.  14,  47 ;  severe 
iUness,  i.  21  ;  return  to  America, 
i.  25 ;  West  Point,  i.  30-39 ; 
Coast  Survey,  i.  40-47  ;  arrival 
in  Paris,  i.  48  ;  journey  to 
Alsace,  i.  61  ;  London,  i.  76 ; 
journey  to  Valparaiso,  i.  134 ; 
journey  to  Venice,  i.  258  ;  joins 
British  Artists,  ii.  47  ;  resigns, 
ii.  69 ;  marriage,  ii.  75,  76 ; 
journey  to  Rome,  ii.  208 ; 
journey  to  Corsica,  ii.  265 ; 
death,  ii.  301 

Portraits  of  him.self,  i.  71-137; 
ii.  158— Tf.  with  Hat,  i.  73—11'. 
with  the  White  Lock,  i.  80— PC. 
in  his  Studio,  i.  184 — {Brovm 
and  Gold),  ii.  204,  251 

Portrait  of,  by  Chase,  ii.  30  ;  by 
Boldini,  ii.  193 ;  by  Boxall, 
i.  24,  25  ;  ii.  176  ;  by  Fantin, 
i.  132;  by  Nicholson,  ii.  194; 
by  Ragon,  ii.  26 

Bust  of,  by  Boehm,  i.  212,  260 
"  Whistler  as  I  knew  him,"  ii.  20 
Whistler,  John,  i.  3 

Lieutenant  John,  i.  3 

Master  John,  i.  3 

Major  John,  i.  5,  6 

Julia  {nie  Winans),  i.  39 

Kensington,  i.  4 

Kirk  Booth,  i.  8 

Margaret,  i.  3 

Mary  {nee  Swift),  i.  7 

Ralph,  i.  4 

Rodolphus,  i.  3 

Rose  Fuller,  i.  2 

Sarah,  i,  2 

Colonel  William,  i.  6 

Dr.  William,  i.  8,  9,  39,  104,  118, 
132,  133,  211,  295;  ii.  76,  82; 
death,  ii.  214  ;  portrait  oj,  i.  133 


Whistler,  Mrs.  William,  i.  2,  28,   133, 

220 ;   ii.  34,  76,  82,  289,  302 
White  Girl,  The  (Symphony    in    White, 

No.  1.),  i.  88,  95-98,  102,  129,  130, 

140,   144,   146,   157,  299 
White   House,   the,    i.    118,    219-228, 

251,  252,  258 
Whiteley  and  Co.,  i.  84 
White  Note,  A.,  ii.  92 
White,  ii.  132 
Whittemore,  ii.   158 
Wilde,  Oscar,  i.  191,  196,  259,  260,  304 ; 

ii.  11,  13-18,  22,  38,  39,  42,  140 
Wilkie,  ii.  49 
Wilkins,  ii.  87 
Wilkinson,  i.  260 
WiUiams,  i.  72 
Williams,    Charlotte — Portrait    of,     ii. 

157 
Wills,  i.  238 
Wilson,  ii.  212,  224,  301 
Wilstack  Collection,  i.  306  ;  ii.  298 
Wimbush,  ii.  198 
Winans,  Louis,  i.  73 
Winans,  Thomas,  i.  39,  40,  47,  88 
Windsor  Collection,  i.  154,  155 ;   ii.  85 
Wine  Glass,  The,  i.  217 
Winged  Hat,  ii.  86 
Wisselingh,  ii.  88,  89 
Wistler  de  Westhannye,  Joha  le,  i.'3 
Wittsen,  ii.  225 
Working    Women's    College,    Queen's 

Square   Exhibition,   ii.    92 
Wolseley,  i.   191  ;    Portrait  of,  194,  195 
Wolseley,  Lady,  i.   191,   195 
Woods,  i.  261,  263,  269 
••World,"  i.  215,  246,  291;  ii.  51,68, 

89,  111 
Wortley,  ii.  89 
Wuerpel,  ii.  139,  151 
Wyndham,  Hon.  P.,  i.  234 
Wyndham,  Hon.  Mrs.  P.,  i.  212,  234 

Yates  ("Atlas"),  i.  291;    ii.  89,  110 
Yellow  Buskin,  The,  i,  218,  305,  306 1 

ii.   116,   132,  298 
Yellow  House,  Lannion,  the,  ii.  148,  149 

Zaandam,  ii.  83 
Zola,  i.  102  ;   ii.  137 
Zorn,  ii.  221 


Printed  by  Ballantyne  &'  Co.  Limited 
Tavistock  Stiect,  Covent  Garden,  London 


UNI\TERSIT\'  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

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This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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JUN26 


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1985 


Form  L9-25m-7,'b3(D8618s8)444 


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